


Caught In The Way You Caught Me

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Additional pairings to come, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belts, Bisexual Natasha Romanov, Bondage, Ch. 6 background Loki/Sif, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feels, Fivesome - F/F/M/M/M, Fuck Or Die, Gags, Genderbending, Genderbent!Sif Ch. 6, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hatesex, Language, Laughter During Sex, Light BDSM, Locked In, Magic-Users, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mouthy Natasha, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov-centric, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of character clothing, Past Relationship(s), Prompt Fill, Restraints, Sensation Play, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Slight Femdom, Slight Victorian AU Ch. 6, Some Plot, Song-inspired, Strap-Ons, Submission, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Topping from the Bottom, Undercover Missions, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, Woman on Top, body fluids, dub-con, mildly crimson peak inspired, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Day Porn Challenge, Poly!Nat</p><p>OR, my excuse to just keep writing Nat-centered smut. Every chapter will involve Nat with some other character from the MCU, following the prompt list from ChasingRiver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4. Bondage, Sif/Natasha

**Author's Note:**

> So, I can't help myself, and there's really not enough Nat-centric smut available. So, here I am to write more. Voila! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! Additional notes and/or warnings will be put at the beginning of every chapter just in case, as well as which pairing per chapter (in case there's any you want to skip.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob!AU, Natasha as a mob boss' wife, and Sif as the woman owed money by Nat's husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt offered up by Anon, who wanted something based on Rhianna's music video for BBHMM. Slight Dub-Con warning, though it turns consensual before things get serious.

Of all the things Nat had been through being the wife of a mob boss: threats, extortion, blackmail, etc., kidnapping had, surprisingly, never popped up before now. There was a blindfold pressed against her eyes, and the leather of the car back seat rubbed against her bare and rope-tied legs, the slit of her evening gown riding up considerably. It was a nice enough car, that much she could tell given how little noise it made and how few bumps of the road she felt. There weren’t any voices coming from up front, and that was what threw her off the most. Men she could deal with, men liked to talk and compliment one another on their jobs, liked to shoot the shit about what it was they had plans to do. Men she could work with.

The women that had taken her hostage, well, that had thrown her for a loop at first. They’d gotten the jump on her, ambushing her in the elevator on her way down to a gala opening, Alexei promising he’d come later, and the chloroform-soaked napkin had pressed against her nose as soon as the doors shut. How they’d gotten her from there to here . . . she had an ache in the back of her neck and lower torso that told her it hadn’t been comfortable. She’d feel it tomorrow, the same with the rope burns around her knees and wrists.

So that just left with the burning question: what in the hell had her shit-for-brains husband done this time?

The car started to slow down, and Natasha’s fingers curled around the edges of the rope around her wrists. The binding was tight, but she’d ensured that there was one side of her diamond on her wedding band that was sharp enough, if she could just figure out the angle--.

The car stopped, sounding like it was pulling off onto gravel, and there was a quiet murmur between two people that were in the front seats before they both got out. Panic paralyzed Nat’s bones, and half a second later it was over. They wouldn’t leave her there. They wouldn’t hurt her. They needed her, at least for a little while. She doubted Alexei had even noticed she was gone, which meant that they’d have time to get his attention. Time for her to make an escape.

Warm, strong hands lifted her up from the seat as soon as the door nearest her head was opened, and she went limp as they tugged her out. Someone hoisted her over their shoulder, a woman, based on the scent of her deoderant. Something floral, but not overpowering. As far as smells went it could’ve been worse. She wobbled as she was carried from the outside in, hearing the voice of another woman in the distance. This one sounded like the driver, hissing quietly to someone that didn’t seem to be responding. Phone call?

“You owe me ten grand.” Her voice was soft, dangerous even though Natasha couldn’t see her. At least she knew what she was dealing with. That would have to be the woman in charge of everything. Before she could figure out anything else she was carried through a door that led to, what she guessed, was a hotel. It smelled like a hotel. They must’ve checked in earlier, and Nat was likely brought in through a side door. There was the click of a key card being accepted, and Nat’s foot nudged against the doorframe as she was carried inside before eventually being tossed onto a bed. She winced, biting on her tongue to keep from crying out in surprise, her hands hanging off the soft comforter. There was the sound of the door opening, then shutting.

“She’s all yours, boss.” That had to be the woman who’d brought her in, a grin in her voice. Nat felt her skin pebble with goosebumps, her every nerve on fire as she tried to angle her wrists, to maneuver her ring to try and start undoing the bindings--.

“Thanks,” another female voice said. This one was smirking, though the low level of anger just beneath it all had Nat worried. “You’ll be just outside, then.”

“To make sure you don’t get too loud, yeah. He didn’t have an answer you wanted?”

There was a snort and the eye-roll was practically audible. “Do they ever?”

The pair shared a quick laugh and then the door was shut once again. Now, now was the time that the panic began to set in, her heart pumping adrenaline faster than she could anticipate. The woman’s footsteps echoed like war drums in Nat’s ears as she stepped closer, and her mouth had gone ridiculously dry in the anticipation for what was coming next. An unfavorable answer on her abductor’s end didn’t ever bode well for the abductee.

“I don’t know what you want,” Nat finally managed to say, her voice hoarse, when the woman grew so close she could hear the quiet breaths coming from above. A hand reached out to brush the curve of her shoulder, running along the exposed collarbone. Her breasts were very nearly popping out from the fabric, and her abductor’s hands massaged the soft swells of flesh, reaching down to flick her a nail over Natasha’s left nipple. Her body arched by instinct, and her lips opened in a soft gasp of surprise. “But I’m sure my husband will get it to you. Soon.”

“Really? He didn’t seem to think so.” The woman’s voice was low, sultry. It made Natasha’s mouth water, or maybe that was the way that the woman was massaging her breast, bordering on just rough enough to keep Nat from being too comfortable. “And if he’s not confident, what makes you so sure?”

“Faith.”

The word sounded hollow, even to Nat, and the woman above snorted.

“Your faith doesn’t come with a fuckton of money, does it? ‘Cause that’s what he owes me.” Her hand left Natasha’s breast, traveled further upwards to rub the soft skin of Natasha’s throat, thumb pressing on her larynx until Natasha’s breathing grew labored and her head felt light. Worst of all was the strange pooling of heat between her legs, starting in the very pit of her gut and turning into arousal at the very apex of her thighs.

“‘Fraid not,” Natasha rasped, fighting to keep her words even, to remember that she had experience with this sort of thing. Alexei liked to play his games, liked to think he owned her and required some sort of physical proof of it, mediocre though his performances always were. This? What this woman was doing to her was different.

Her hands skittered upwards, fingertips dancing through Natasha’s now less than immaculate hair, and undid the ties of the blindfold, pushing it away from her eyes. Nat blinked quickly a couple times, the light from above no means horribly bright but still overwhelming from the dark of the blindfold. Hell of a fabric, whatever it was made out of. Brown eyes framed by long lashes stared down at her, blinking slowly as thin lips twisted into a small smile.

“You’ve got a certain knack for this, don’t you? Surprising. Most women don’t enjoy it.”

“Well, I’m going to disappoint you if you’re looking for most women,” Natasha couldn’t help but biting out, her confidence restored now that she could see and take stock of everything. She’d been right about the hotel, and it was a pretty nice one at that. For someone waiting to be repaid ten-thousand dollars she sure had expensive tastes.

The woman laughed, surprised, and stepped over around the edge of the bed. Natasha followed her with her eyes, moving her body and pulling her arms back into her lap as she sat up against the headboard. “I’m Sif, and you’re Natasha--.”

“Romanoff,” she said quickly. “I don’t need that filth of a husband’s last name ruining my own reputation.”

“And you’ve got a mouth on you. I can appreciate that.” Sif moved to the very edge of the room, pulling up a dufflebag and unzipping it. From within, she pulled out a couple of black ropes, much like the ones already wrapped around Nat’s wrists and knees.

“Are you going to tie me up further?” Natasha asked, one eyebrow rising when Sif turned to face her again, palming the black material, sliding her fingers up and down its length. Lovingly, almost.

“Might gag you if you I didn’t want to see what your pretty mouth could do.”

That made Nat smirk, tongue darting out to run over her bottom lip slowly, making sure to watch as Sif’s eyes followed the movement. “Why don’t you untie me and I’ll show you?”

“I don’t think you need your hands and legs to prove it to me.”

Nat felt her breath catch in her throat, watched as Sif’s pupils dilated as she stepped closer, the rope moved to the side of the bed. Quicker than Nat could catch, a knife darted out from between Sif’s fingertips and cut the bindings from around her knees, stretching them out and anchoring them to either end of the bed. The blade flicked the band of her panties as well, Sif sliding them out from under her and tossing them to the side.

“You won’t be needing those. Not for a long time,” Sif promised. She ran the dull edge of the blade up along Natasha’s inner thigh and the chill of the metal, the danger and fact that she had to trust her abductor to not kill her sent a thrill up her spine. She just hoped that she wasn’t misjudging how valuable she actually was. With her legs already spread, Sif moved herself up closer to where Natasha’s face had been repositioned on the six or seven fluffed up pillows that’d come with the enormous bed. Her hands were pressed to her abdomen, and held there as Sif shimmied out of her shorts. Natasha felt her heart speed up, the reality of what she imagined was coming hitting her. Her palms broke out in a cold sweat though she determinedly kept her face blank of anything that could be held against her.

“You’d better not disappoint me,” Sif said, the threat hardly registering before she positioned her slit just above Natasha’s mouth, digging her hands into the redhead’s hair and grinding against her lips. Reflexively, Natasha’s tongue pressed out and up, finding her clit and swirling around until Sif began to shiver. Soft moans fell from her parted lips, and she looked down just as Natasha looked up.

“Wouldn’t have thought Alexei had a cunt,” Sif breathed, a laugh escaping her parted lips as she dipped her head backwards and moaned once more. The sound turned throaty as Natasha applied suction, running the tip of her tongue flat against her lips before pressing it into her. Sif bucked her hips in time with it, urging Nat to go deeper, and Natasha responded by arching her neck and scraping her teeth ever-so gently along the woman’s clit.

Sif shouted, her back arching above, as Natasha fucked her with her tongue and without mercy. Alexei always had other diversions to keep his attention, his little business ventures never requiring Nat’s presence, and so Nat had found others who learned how to please her, and taught her how to please them. She used every trick in the book on Sif, and the woman’s moans filled the room. After her first orgasm she rolled off atop of Nat, gasping for breath, wide-eyes glazed over, and Natasha licked her lips slowly to catch every last drop of her arousal and come possible.

Any panic or nerves that she’d felt before had disappeared, though she wasn’t sure how or why. Still, if this was what the woman had in mind, well, Nat didn’t have it in her to complain. The bindings around her wrists were uncomfortable but nothing she couldn’t handle. Nothing she didn’t, admittedly, enjoy. Sif caught her licking her lips clean and moaned, surging forward to press her lips against Natasha’s, making the taste something shared between the pair of them.

“Your turn,” Sif said once she managed to pull away, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Nat squirmed in her bindings, wet already from having pleased Sif.

“Alright, but don’t disappoint me,” she said in mock seriousness, imitating Sif’s high expectations from before. It earned her a slap on the inner thigh as Sif positioned herself between her already spread legs. A loud moan left her lips before she dove in, applying the same enthusiasm that Natasha had, and pumping two fingers inside of Nat slowly to help work her up all the faster.

But Natasha wasn’t going to make it that easy. Her breath came in short gasps, her vision was growing fuzzy around the edges, and still she managed to bite out: “Really? That’s all you’ve got? I’d have thought you’d have much more--experience,” the word broke off as Sif pressed a third finger into her sopping wet core, angling them upwards so that Natasha’s back bowed and she squeezed her eyes shut as her head tipped back.

“I’m rethinking not gagging you,” Sif growled as she pulled her mouth away from Natasha’s slit. “You keep it up and I just might.”

“You’re enjoying it. You would’ve gagged me already if you didn’t want me bossing you around,” Natasha guessed, putting enough force behind her words to make it seem like she knew what she was talking about. “Or find a different way to shut me up, Sif.”

That earned her another slap to the inside of her thigh with Sif’s free hand, before the fingers that had been teasing her to the edge of orgasm were pulled out. Nat nearly shouted. Shit, no. She didn’t want it to be done! Had she guessed wrong?

Sif hardly made a noise as she slipped off the bed, the lack of warmth and pressure of her body against Nat’s making Natasha recoil in displeasure, and her eyes watched as Sif walked back towards the door. Nat’s teeth worried at her bottom lip. Shit. She really had done it this time, hadn’t she?

Her captor bowed out of her line of sight, the small hallway wall hiding whatever it was she was doing. Nat listened all the harder, hearing rustling amidst the speeding thumps of her heart.

A strap-on, complete with a thick, jet-black dildo and a small bottle of lube was not what she’d expected. Sif positioned it around her hips, her eyes holding Natasha’s stare the whole time. Promising a great deal more than what Nat would’ve thought she had coming. So this whole thing had been planned out, at least the sex part. She released her bottom lip only when she tasted blood from biting down so hard, and Sif crawled back to where she’d been between Nat’s legs.

“Still want to get lippy with me?” Sif asked, uncapping the bottle of lube and squeezing a dollop onto her fingertips. She smoothed it over the thick head of the dildo, eyes flicking upwards to watch Natasha’s face go from determined concentration, brow furrowed and breath shortened, to an attempt at cool indifference. Nat wasn’t doing so well.

“Depends. You gonna fuck me quiet?”

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

Fair enough.

Sif placed the bottle onto the ground before taking her lube coated fingers and slipping them inside of Natasha once more, three at a time. Her wrist moved so quickly Nat hardly had time to prepare herself, the pads of Sif’s fingers brushing hard against her g-spot until Nat was keening in pleasure. Sif alternated between scissoring her fingers, opening Nat further, and assaulting the swollen walls of her cunt, determined to wring every last sound from Natasha’s mouth possible. It was working, Nat feeling her throat already going hoarse as she ground herself on Sif’s hand. When she stopped and slid her fingers out, replacing them with the head of the thick cock, Nat was grateful for the mercy shown to her. It was huge, far bigger than Alexei, and she whimpered as Sif pressed it into her inch by glorious inch. Only when it was fully seated inside her, and Sif was close enough to kiss her way down Natasha’s exposed throat, did she pause and allow Natasha a moment to catch her breath.

“Not so loud now, are you?”

Natasha barely stopped herself from snorting, and the noise transformed into a moan as Sif bucked her hips ever-so slightly. “If you fuck me stupid like you promised I might be.”

The dark haired woman grinned, pulling away from the fresh hickies that coated the junction of Nat’s throat and shoulders, and rolled her hips slowly, getting Natasha used to the push and pull of the cock within her. Every thrust was a blessing, and every withdrawal had her clenching her body around it, determined to keep as much of that delicious pressure and friction as she could.

“C’mon, _faster_ ,” Nat begged, digging her heels into the mattress as best she could so her hips rose from the surface of the bed and brought the pair of them closer. Sif sat up swiftly, one of her hands coming to rest on Nat’s windpipe, the other bracing her on Natasha’s hip.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Sif growled, though to her credit her hips snapped, hard, against Natasha’s. The force made Nat shout. “You’re mine right now, you hear me? I’m calling the shots.”

“So prove it to me. Fuck me,” Nat bit, her tone acidic though she was grateful to have found what it was that Sif responded to. If she’d upped her game enough to bring this bad boy out, what would she have in store for Nat if she continued to get lippy?

It was a mercy that Sif was done playing around, it seemed, spurned on by Natasha’s words. Her hips sped up, and every crack of their skin meeting one another sent delicious shivers down Nat’s spine, wishing she could pull her legs free and dig her heels into the small of Sif’s back to encourage her to go faster. Her whining and writhing just beneath her seemed to be doing the trick, at least. Her thrusts were shallow, but just what Nat needed, her skin feeling like it was burning, as though Sif had set her alight. Combined with the applied pressure of Sif’s hand on her throat making the edges of her vision blurry it wasn’t long until Nat opened her mouth to scream, orgasm hitting her with all the force of a sucker punch in her abdomen. She convulsed beneath Sif, nails digging into her palms so hard it was a miracle she didn’t draw blood.

Above her, Sif grinned, slowing the pace down considerably as Natasha gasped great lungfuls of air. “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough tonight,” Sif purred, licking a long stripe up Natasha’s left breast. Goosebumps erupted in her wake. “We’re just getting started.”

 

In the end, the money _really_ wasn’t worth having to give Nat back to Alexei, and Nat _did_ still have access to all of Alexei’s bank accounts.

 

 


	2. 29. Group Sex, Multi-Pairing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Steve/Sif, Sif/Natasha , Thor/Natasha, Loki/Natasha, Loki/Natasha/Thor. Group Sex + Sex Pollen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this idea was originally supposed to find its way into the Breathe storyline and just . . . never did. So, I present it to you now! Nat getting lots and lots of loving from some of our faves. Can be read as an add on to Breathe, somewhere between the first and second part, or as a stand alone.

“You’re sure about this?” Loki leaned in, voice soft as they stepped through the crowded Asgardian tavern.  His arm had wrapped around her waist, holding her close when he had led her through the warm, crowded room.  Now they were pressed up against one another just to the side of the stairs, the loud chatter of the Asgardians around them swallowing their words.  Goodness only knew what waited for them upstairs--well, Nat had an idea according to what Thor had promised her, but she didn’t quite know what to expect from him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want.  There’s no shame in it--it was a stupid idea of mine.”  

She cupped the side of his face.  “Do you want me to?”  She asked, lips curling in a reassuring smile.

“I’m trying to say--I’m don’t want to imply--..”

“Loki, if you don’t want me to then I won’t.  But your idea was an intriguing one, Loki.  So long as you still want me to.”  

He didn’t have to say anything, his eyes telling her more than he could find words for. She leaned in to kiss his lips, and when she pulled away there was a new glint of intrigue in her eyes. “C’mon, now. Probably shouldn’t be keeping them waiting.” Her hand found his, fingers threading in with his before she pulled them from their private corner and tugged him upstairs. Thor had assured the both of them that they’d have the largest room to accommodate them, and that with the crowds beneath they ought not to be heard or disturbed. Strange, Nat had to admit, but then she could understand how it was easiest to find privacy when one was surrounded completely. Third door to the left, as Thor had instructed, led through a thick wooden door with three people already waiting for them, in various states of undress. Sif was already completely naked, Steve buried between her legs while Thor stroked himself just to the side, a lazy smile on his lips. The air was thick with the scent of something sweet, and as Natasha breathed deep she felt herself grow giddy, as though the sight of Steve eating Sif out wasn’t arousing enough. Loki, too, was already hardening just behind her, his hips pressed up against her backside.

“Shut the door and come join,” Thor said, his attention half turning to them, lips spreading in an eager smile as he beckoned them closer. Loki was quick to oblige, while Natasha worked at the straps and lacings of her dress. Bloody thing had too many ties, too many buckles, and her skin was boiling beneath it, demanding to be touched. Sif leaned up from where she was laying down and surged over towards the blond just beside her, their lips crashing against one another. Nat didn’t think she’d seen something so gorgeous in her life. She panted breathlessly, feeling Loki’s hands already on her, tugging her back towards him and tipping her face up so that he could kiss her deeply. He’d already undone the front of his jacket, and his trousers were halfway on the floor by the time he helped her finish removing her dress. She moaned to feel the cool air kissing her skin, twisting around to kiss him all the harder and grind herself against his hard cock.

“Bed,” he groaned, and she nearly whimpered when he didn’t lay her down and take her right there. There were footsteps from behind, however, and she was hoisted up before she could do much else other than moan at the heat of Thor’s body against hers. He carried her over to the bed, laying her down besides Steve. Only then did the soldier pull away from Sif’s slit and grin at Nat, his lips soaked with Sif’s arousal and come. He looked gorgeous, blissed out with blown pupils and swollen lips. She had to lean forward to kiss him, had to taste Sif, and the sight made the dark-haired goddess moan.

“You two should do that more often,” she said, voice hoarse. True to Thor’s word, they certainly hadn’t heard anything even when they were just outside the door, so when Loki dipped a finger, then a second, into her soaked sex she didn’t hold back the moan that bubbled from her throat. He’d crawled closer to her, and Thor had sat behind her, his cock bobbing, tip red and dribbling precome. It made Nat’s mouth water. Twisting onto all fours, she arched her hips and looked back at Loki.

“Still think we shouldn’t do this?” she asked, tone joking as she wiggled her toned ass in front of him. He was on his knees and sliding into her in less than a minute, his hips flush against hers before she could think to gloat. Thor’s hand found the back of her head, turning her face to guide her towards his own cock and she swallowed him down with a hum of glee. More often than not she thought she had to dislocate her jaw to take Thor fully into her mouth, but something about the . . . whatever it was that Loki had told her he’d supplied them with, made blowing him a more realistic reality than ever. Her tongue ran along the veined underside of his cock, her lips spread wide as she worked to relax her throat and bob her head up and down. One of Thor’s hands found her hair and grabbed a hold of it, far more gentle even given his mental state. The moan that came from her mouth vibrated around his cock, and when Loki slammed into her once again it pushed her forward, throat tightening around Thor.

She could feel and hear shuffling just to her side, but couldn’t think about what it meant until Sif’s mouth wrapped around the nipple of her left breast, tongue flicking around the swollen bud as Steve mounted his lover from behind and filled her with ease. Nat’s gaze swept over towards them and she whimpered as she pulled away from Thor’s cock to gasp a breath into her lungs. Loki didn’t stop, jolting her forward with every thrust, one hand maneuvered to stroke her clit with his arousal-slicked thumb, the other reaching out to massage Natasha’s other breast.

Sif ran her teeth gently across the nipple in her mouth and Nat choked on a shout, orgasm taking her completely by surprise. She didn’t know whose name to moan, couldn’t hardly think of her own name, and when Thor fed her his cock inch by inch once more she moaned in joy the whole while, the edge taken off completely thanks to the comfortable buzz settling across her skin.

She couldn’t make sense of the look that she saw Steve and Thor pass to one another, only that one second her mouth was filled with Thor’s hardness and the next he was pulling free from her. She whimpered in disappointment, jaw aching but body feeling decidedly empty even with Loki pounding into her all the harder. As Thor moved behind her, and Loki shifted to the side to make more room, Steve moved to lay down on the bed, and tugged Sif with him. She looked as at peace with the world as Nat did, eyes hooded, the color high in her cheeks, and when Steve moved her to sit atop his waist, his cock slipping into her with ease, she whimpered softly, balancing herself forward on her knees. Just within reach. Nat slotted her mouth on the dark haired woman’s throat, sucking and biting as she felt a finger, slicked up with oil that she hadn’t seen on her first, quick inspection of the room, press against the pucker of her ass. Loki slowed down, taking his time and positioning his hips so that the head of his cock milked her g-spot for everything it was worth. She wouldn’t have been amazed to find out that Thor was using electricity on her, her nerves feeling as though they were standing on end.

Sif’s hands massaged Natasha’s breasts as their mouths found one another, Steve’s thrusts slow and just as pointed as Loki’s, it seemed. Nat reached forward to cup the side of Sif’s face, before sliding her hands back to bury them in the woman’s hair. She felt so good, felt right and warm and perfect against her, everything that she needed as Thor inserted a second finger into her ass, scissoring her open. She knew what that meant, and every piece of her wished he’d just go faster, wished he’d fill her up all the faster. With regret, Nat broke away from Sif to press herself back against Thor’s hand, staring back at him.

“I want more,” she whined, words breaking as Sif bit her way across Natasha’s shoulder. She’d have the marks for a couple of days and welcomed them. Didn’t want them to fade away, wanted to remember everything she could about this and have the marks to prove it wasn’t just a figment of her runaway imagination.

“In time,” Thor promised, his mouth open as he watched her body take him with little difficulty. The third finger, combined with Loki’s soft kisses pressed against her back, brought her all the closer to her orgasm, and when it finally wrung itself from her body she felt herself being gently guided back into Loki’s arms. Thor removed his fingers and Nat looked back to grin at him. She knew what was coming.

It took a moment for her body to adjust to the head of Thor’s cock being pressed between her cheeks, and prep or not he took his time, dick slicked up from her saliva and more oil. The burn and stretch had her spine going ramrod straight, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re doing so well,” Loki said and he sounded absolutely wrecked. “You’re doing so well. You can take him, darling. Keep breathing.” His hand rubbed her back gently, and in front of them Sif moaned loudly, Steve’s own moans joining in as he came. Nat’s eyes snapped open, watching how Sif’s face contorted, how her body went stiff, Steve’s hands tight on her hips. They looked gorgeous, carved out of marble, all rippling muscle and strength joined in the ultimate act of abandon, of pleasure. Nat couldn’t help but bring her hand down between her thighs, forefinger rubbing against her engorged clit. It all felt so good, felt too good, and as Thor leveled out inside her he pushed the rest of the air from her lungs. Stars burst in front of her eyes. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Loki telling her to breathe, felt him pulling out before pushing back in slowly, he and Thor alternating so she was never entirely empty. She was being ripped apart inch by inch and put back together, her every fiber torn into tiny pieces as they worked her back up for the third time. Oxygen was impossible to come by, her brain and body telling her she wanted, needed more. When Sif and Steve pulled apart, Nat tugged the warrioress closer, urging her to lay back down with her legs spread wide. Her mouth knew what she was doing, setting immediately to Sif’s come-soaked slit, taking her time lapping at Sif’s clit and lips with long, flat strokes, emulating the thrusts of the two men behind her. Sif’s moans were sweet, high pitched and breathless, a perfect counterpoint to the grunts and murmurs of pleasure from Loki and Thor, and when their thrusts began to speed up, the two men chasing their own orgasms, Natasha reciprocated on Sif. Steve watched on just behind Sif, massaging her breasts as he mouthed his way up her throat.

Loki was the first to come, his hips pressed hard against Natasha’s as she felt him fill her so much that it began to drip out of her. She didn’t dare break away from Sif, too engaged in what she was doing, so the moans were buried against her skin and vibrated their way up Sif’s spine. Nat had started to lazily pump two fingers into her a little while back, and now Sif clenched around them, her head twisting against Steve’s chest as Nat’s body visibly trembled. Her fourth orgasm hit the same time that Thor’s first one hit. He slammed into her with a roar, and had Nat’s bones not have been as well fortified as they were he might’ve thrown her entire spine out of alignment. Not that she could think much of that, voice gone and Sif starting to tremble beneath her. She came just seconds later, set off by the other two in front of her coming, and for half a moment the room was filled with little more than hard-won breathing of the five sweat-soaked figures straining the reinforced bed frame and mattress they’d taken up residence on.

 

The peace lasted a whole minute and a half before they started back up again. Later, Nat would tell Loki that utilizing a plant with what she was lovingly calling sex pollen was one of his best ideas to date.

 

 


	3. 13. Gags, Pietro/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship between Pietro and Natasha, slight femdom going on, restraints and--obviously, gags. Orgasm denial thrown in for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this pairing so much, and I hope to write some more of them as I keep working on this 30 day-thing.   
> Thanks for reading!

She’d figured from the first time that they’d met that Pietro was going to have a mouth that would rival Clint’s, maybe even Tony’s if he tried hard enough. It came with the territory of being the older twin, she guessed, used to having to talk his way either in or out of situations, having to use that mouth to protect Wanda or cheer her up. It was a natural reflex, she mused. Didn’t mean she wanted to hear him running it off all the time.

Natasha licked a slow, long stripe from the bottom of Pietro’s cock to the very tip, the muffled whimpers of pleasure coming from the man in front of her twisting her lips into a cruel, slow smile as she looked up through her lashes to stare at him. His thin lips were stretched wide over the ball gag she’d produced half an hour ago, his hands locked up in the handcuffs she’d borrowed from Steve’s room (not like he and Tony needed them when they were downstairs bickering over something she didn’t care to think about). He was gripping the edges hard, knuckles white, and she could all but hear his teeth biting into the plastic of the gag.

“Pietro, don’t bite through that,” she hummed, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to the very tip of his cock before swirling her tongue around the crown of it to catch the precome that had dripped down. In response he bucked his hips up against her mouth, trying to end the torment that she’d been hell-bent on drawing out for far longer than she was willing to bet he’d ever been forced to wait before. He was a sort of instant gratification type of man, she thought as she wrapped her hand around his dick and slowly pumped him up and down. With her spare hand she held his hips down, preventing him from getting any extra help, and the choked whine sent a thrill up her spine and made her nipples harden with arousal. Not that it was difficult; seeing him prone, begging muffled against the gag, was doing more than enough to turn her on.

“You’ve got to learn to be patient, Pietro,” she said, her grip on the base of his cock tightening to help stave off his orgasm. The color rose in his cheeks at the way that she said his name, nostrils flaring as he stared down at her. His pupils nearly swallowed the thin ring of blue left of his irises, and she watched with eager eyes as the flush traveled down his pale chest. “God I could just eat you alive, darling,” she purred. The look in his eyes told her that he didn’t necessarily consider that a bad thing. She gave a low, guttural laugh at that. With an easy grace she shifted her hips closer to his, running her soaked core against the length of his cock. When she grabbed his attention she caught sight of a certain glimmer of desperation that had her salivating. What would he do, she wondered, if she kept him like this for hours at a time? Already she could hear him begging against the gag, but without his usual litany of quick, clever things to say he wasn’t about to charm the pants--or plans, in this case--from her. How long could he stand it?

He felt wonderful against her, solid, practically pulsating with his need for her body and attention, and she bit her bottom lip as she struggled with her choices. “Do you want me to fuck you now?” she asked, voice soft.

“Yes!” That much she could make out from around the gag, and it widened her grin. “Please,” came next, though it was a little more difficult to make out. Shifting out of her original position, she moved herself until she was balancing just atop him, her hands on his chest, slit poised just above him. Did she dare? Tantalizingly, she swayed her hips back and forth, reaching out and pinching one of his nipples when he tried to thrust up into her. He shouted, and the gag swallowed the noise, forced it back into his throat until it mingled with a groan of relief and satisfaction when she finally lowered herself onto him. He felt amazing, and she took her time rolling her hips as she grew accustomed to his length. For being a scrawny little thing, color her impressed.

Her pace was slow, teasing, and she’d mix it up by pulling herself up and off of him entirely just to hear him shout and plead for her to come back, before easing herself onto him once more. She leaned in and kissed her way around the gag, tasting the salt of his sweat on her lips when she wetted them with her tongue.

“You keep making things more difficult on yourself. Trust me, Pietro.” She reached out to stroke the side of his face, her own expression softening as she watched his adam’s apple bob and the flush deepen further. “Let me ride you how I want and I promise it’ll be worth it. Think you can give up control for a little bit?” She leaned in and took his earlobe into her mouth, biting it gently.

His breath hitched, back arching, but he kept from thrusting up into her as he had been before. A pause, she listened to his heartbeat slow down, then he nodded.

Perfect.

Again, her pace started out slow while she ran her hands up and down his torso, feeling the whip-strong muscles beneath his pale skin, kissing and biting her way down his chest until he writhed. Her hips bounced shallowly, just enough to keep his attention, but she took her time with her lips, sucking purpling hickeys onto his throat, collarbone, and abdomen. Anywhere she could get to, really. She’d never wanted to make someone her own the way she did with him, though she couldn’t put a finger on just why. He was an itch she’d been dying to scratch, with all the cock-suredness of the men she surrounded herself with on the outside, and an insane need to please and be pleased on the inside. It was heady, it was addicting. She was in serious trouble.

She thought she heard another muffled “please” come from him, and grinned when she tipped her head up. “Please, what? You want to come?”

He nodded his head vigorously, and she swirled her hips around once more. He shuddered, saliva sliding down from the corner of his mouth. “You want me to take that off you?”

The nodding was more vigorous this time. Her hips picked up speed as she sat back on her haunches, then positioned herself to balance on her feet. It allowed for a better angle, his cock hitting every sweet spot her body knew as she started to go to town. His hands clenched on the shackles, and had they not been lined with leather he might’ve cut his wrists from holding onto them so hard. Her hands ran absently up her body, and she watched as his knuckles went white once more.

“You want to touch me? Like this?” She cupped her breasts, massaging them and watching as he nodded once more. Never once did his eyes leave her breasts, and she could feel the way that he sucked in his breath when she started tugging on her nipples, moaning louder than strictly necessary, but loving how loud she could be while he was quieted.

“I don’t know, maybe I like you like this. Bound, gagged. At my every whim and desire.” She whimpered as she felt herself drawing closer, the slow build of pleasure growing exponentially every second she spent atop him. Her pace picked up, his eyes brightened. “C’mon, Pietro. You don’t really need your words to show me how badly you want me, do you?”

This time, when he thrust up against her, she didn’t stop him, just rode it out with a broken groan that sent shivers down her own spine. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was muffled only by the beating of their hearts and Natasha’s throaty groans, her hands abandoning her breasts in favor of running up and down his torso, dragging her nails across his abs, watching the bright red lines pop up seconds afterwards.

She was getting closer faster than she could’ve predicted, the situation quickening her orgasm. “Pietro, oh, _fuck_ ,” she moaned, body clenching around his as she rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust until her breath was sucked from her lungs and her body began to convulse. She pitched forward, catching herself with her arms on either side of him as she trembled and groaned. He fucked her through the aftershocks of his own orgasm, lost in the relief of being able to find his completion, and when she murmured in his ear for him to come, she thought he might actually break the headboard from trying to pull the handcuffs away from them. His heels dug into the mattress, his eyes fluttered shut, and every muscle and vein in his neck stood out as he groaned loudly into the gag. She whimpered happily, kissing his shoulders gently before reaching behind to undo the clasp of the gag.

“You were wonderful for me, you know that?” she purred in his ear, dipping her fingers into his hair. She could hear his jaw crack as he moved it around a couple times. “So wonderful.”

“You’ve got an interesting sense of wonderful,” he snarked. She could feel his eyes on her, and grabbed for the key just to the side of them where she’d thrown them before. With nimble, easy fingers she undid the cuffs tossing them away as well. They hit the ground with a clatter, and it was such a relief to have his hands on her, flipping her over with ease. His strength seemed to have a knack of taking her by surprise, and the soft “yip” that left her mouth in shock was a testament to it.

Any semblance of exhaustion he might’ve had before disappeared, and she grinned up at him. “Want to show me what you think of that?” She arched a brow, her smile taunting. Apparently, being fast had other certain advantages, one she fully intended to exploit as often as possible.

 

 


	4. 18. Office Sex, Matt/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt/Nat, somewhere between Avengers one and the end of Netflix's Daredevil season one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's just too much potential for Nat to be the paralegal that Foggy mentioned at the beginning of season one (I mean, she did work for the legal branch of SI during IM2, right?), so I couldn't help but toss that in. Hope you like! Medical Play has never been a kink of mine, so I substituted it for Office Sex. Thanks for reading =]

As far as Foggy knew, she was the paralegal, the one that Matt had met from their days working for Landman and Zack, and that was how she prefered to keep it. It made things easier, so that when Nat slipped through the door with a consult she needed Matt to--no pun intended--take a look at, the look Foggy gave her was one of surprised recognition.

“Oh, hi. Natalie Rushman, right?”

Nat let her mouth twist into an easy smile, tucking a curl behind her ear to mask the legitimate shock she felt. She’d chopped off most of her hair, straightened it, and still he managed to recognize her. Good to know she’d made such an impression. “Yeah, Foggy. Good to see you again. You guys got away from big corporate, huh?”

The man extended his arms, grinning and looking around the dilapidated front room as though he was showing off the entrance to the Taj Mahal. “Great, right? You are officially looking at Foggy and Murdock, Attorneys at Law. Do you need legal help?” He looked excited, his eyes bright at the prospect. Just to his left the door opened, and Matt Murdock stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest and his face pointed in her direction, smiling.

“Pardon the enthusiasm,” Matt said and Foggy jumped at how quietly he’d shown up. “We’re a little short on clients. Especially lovely ones.”

That got his partner rolling his eyes and running a hand through his long hair. Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at the easy flattery. Some things hadn’t changed, and she’d have been mortified if they would’ve.

“Still as sweet a talker as ever,” she remarked, moving towards him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I was wondering if I could talk to you, actually?”

“Sure. Step into my office.” He had that usual, crooked grin she’d come to expect from him on his lips now, as though he’d been waiting to use a line like that since he’d gotten his own. He probably had.

Foggy shouted something after them about leaving the office so they’d have their privacy, and Matt waved out the door in his gratitude before shutting it. As he did Nat took quick stock of the room, the spartan setting of it. He really needed to let Foggy, or their oddly absent receptionist get a hold of it and decorate for him. He might’ve been blind, didn’t mean everyone else was.

“I’m still getting everything together,” he said, voice soft, as though he could read her thoughts. He’d always been scarily good at that, and it made her twist to watch him.

“I’m happy for you two, glad that you managed to get away from that suckhole.”

Matt laughed, taking his seat with the ease of a man who’d walked many a time around the room to familiarize himself with it. She didn’t imagine they had all that many clients, not yet. They were good, they did their homework and they worked hard, that much she knew, but the world didn’t always reward those who deserved it most. She pulled her file out, already translated into braille for him, and slid it across the desk towards his hands. He accepted it quietly, his brow pulling down.

“Not just a congratulatory visit?”

“It is. I just need your help with something, too. That okay?”

He wasn’t the only one who could listen to heartbeats, and she’d heard his beginning to pick up as soon as she’d walked into his office and he’d shut the door, the same way he’d undoubtedly heard her own quicken for the same reason. She watched as his fingers traveled over the bumps on the paper, the furrow in his brow deepening the more he read.

“Sounds like it’s the work of the Hand. I haven’t seen them lately, but that doesn’t mean they’re not lurking. You talk to Danny about it, yet?”

“Was wondering if you could put in a good word with him. Last time I met with him I might’ve, ah, left a bad impression.”

The smile that was so Matt was back in an instant, his attention snapping back up at her as his shoulders loosened. She bit her bottom lip, breath catching. He had that stupid effect on her, the one that made her press her thighs a little tighter together and her breath quicken when she’d found it again. Maybe it was because it was so ridiculously free, every damn time, like he had nothing to hide (which was ridiculous, really, because if there was one man who hid just about everything from just about everyone it was M _atthew Murdock_ ).

“Hard to believe you leave a bad impression with anyone who isn’t looking for a bullet in the head.”

She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth, a soft laugh leaving in a huff. “Wow. Your lines are still as good as ever.”

“Well, gotta have something going for me, don’t I? Dashing good looks aside.” He paused, sitting forward as though to ask her a serious question. “I am still good looking, right? Lie to me if you have to.”

She bit her tongue for a half moment, then leaned forward further to close the gap between them, her lips slotting with ease against his. He hadn’t been expecting that, the momentary hesitation making his body go rigid, before he melted against her mouth. With careful, quick hands she pushed his few desk things to the side, careful to avoid them as she managed to pull herself up and onto the desk, tugging the lapels on his shirt so that he was pulled up and out of his seat. With all the finesse befitting an ex-ballerina and an assassin she maneuvered him between her legs once she’d seated herself on the rickety wood of his desk. He groaned against her mouth, mapping out the curve of her jaw and the angle of her throat, sucking in just the right places with the perfect amount of pressure to make her groan and shudder underneath him. Braille and the general populace weren’t the only things he was excellent at reading, always more than adept at getting her from just starting to warm up to boiling beneath her skin in a matter of seconds. His hands found the hem of her shirt, silk, and he groaned as he slipped his fingertips beneath the hem to skirt his hands upwards. With ease he guided her backwards, supporting her as he laid her onto the desk. She’d have pulled him back with her if she thought the desk could support both of their weights, her loose skirt falling back across her upper-thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“All the things you learned at Landman and Zack, and you didn’t realize that you ought to have grabbed the desk they gave you?” she huffed as he started in on undoing the buttons of her blouse. She took over once he got closer to the swell of her breasts, slipping the remaining buttons from their place with ease so that she could take him by the wrists and wrap his hands over her breasts.

“It was way too small. Couldn’t fit all my non-existent case files,” he hissed through clenched teeth, the color rising in his cheeks as he she reached up to take off his glasses, to look at his blank, brown eyes. It caused him to pause, his eyes staring ahead at her, though she knew he couldn’t make out more than a couple faint outlines. She leaned up, her heart swelling, and placed two slow kisses just above his eyes, feeling them flutter closed as she drew nearer. With his body pressed so close to hers she could feel his heart thud hard against his rib cage, knowing hers was answering it in kind.

“You’ll get there,” she promised softly, breath warm against his skin as he leaned in to press his forehead to hers. “Till then maybe you should come visit me. Don’t want to break your desk.”

His whole body trembled with the laugh, and he brought his right knuckles to rap against the wood of his now bared desk. “You’d be surprised how strong it can be.”

“Really?” She rolled her hips against his and heard the wood creak and groan unhappily at the movement. Yeah, real strong.

He paused, licking his lips, before helping her shrug off her blouse the rest of the way. “I’ve got a pretty strong chair. Or a floor.”

“You can’t stand sheets that aren’t cotten, what makes you think you’ll like wood any more?” She couldn’t help but laugh, brushing the hair away from his eyes, the heat between the room simmering as her mind worked, wondering if she’d be able to stomach waiting until they even got to her office. How strong was Foggy’s desk?

“I’ve been slammed up against concrete more times than I care to think about this past week alone. Wood sounds like a welcome relief.”

Well, if he insisted.

They could spread out on the floor, his pants slipping to the ground as she laid back and kept herself from hissing as the chilly wood came in contact with the small of her back. He was right, they’d certainly been through worse, but it didn’t make the initial shock go away. After she’d hummed that yes, she was sure about this, he slid into her with ease, cock hitting the back of her cunt in one swift stroke. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she tipped her head back against the floor, and he buried a groan against the swell of her left breast, nipping at the swollen, soft tissue as he pulled out, then drove back into her.

She rolled her hips with every thrust of his own, their movements blending together with the ease of two people that fought and were intimately familiar with one another’s body. Months separated didn’t matter; when they came together like this it was as if they’d hardly been apart a couple hours. Her hands wandered up under his shirt, careful to avoid what felt like a still healing scab on his abdomen and scratching his back instead, reveling in the way he arched and shuddered atop her.

They lasted just long enough to garner enough angry shouting coming from beneath them from their constant moaning and rocking against the (likely thin) floor, and Nat came with a laugh in her mouth, tasting unadulterated joy for the briefest spark of a moment. Matt followed as she clenched down tight around him, banging a fist onto the ground as he shouted and buried himself to the hilt into her again, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead. Nat pushed it out of the way, capturing his lips with hers once again.

He gasped and laughed breathlessly when she finally pulled away. “God. I’m so glad I don’t have to look the people who work beneath us in the eye. Ever.”

“Might want to warn Foggy,” she said with a quiet laugh, biting on her bottom lip as their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of their orgasms, gooseflesh having spread along her skin like wildfire. He traced the patch on her right shoulder with his lips.

“Nah. Way more fun to have him start coming up with reasons why they don’t like us.”


	5. 27. Sex Toys, Pietro/Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex Toys & Locked-In, Pietro/Natasha, established relationship and post-AOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this got wildly out of hand and I'm not even sorry. Hope you like!

There just never seemed to be enough time in the week to get everything done, and even though Pietro was Mr. Speed, as Tony had come to call him, it never stopped the hours from ticking away in between missions until they were relying on glimpses of each other in passing to check up on how they were both doing. So, Nat had decided that in between missions they’d get at least one day, twenty-four hours, spent entirely just the pair of them. No work, barring extenuating circumstances, they’d order in or make food, and certainly no Clint or Tony there to snarkingly tease them about Nat being a cradle robber or Pietro being a quickie. That’d gotten old after the first couple days.

It’d been three weeks since she’d last touched down on American soil, one of her leads having taken her to South Africa for twelve days, then Nigeria for the rest of time, and the first thing she did was text Pietro to see if he was home, then redirect him to meet her at her apartment on the Lower East Side. He was already waiting by the time she got there, hoodie pulled up high over his face to keep from being overly recognized, fingers tapping so quickly on the brick wall behind him that they were a blur. She grinned, slipping out of the taxi, and without a word he followed her up the stairs and to the door, the only noise between them the sound of her heels clacking on the concrete steps. After he’d followed her inside she shut the door and slid the deadbolt into place with a familiar, resounding _click_.

His lips were on hers before it’d even finished, the hood of his jacket pushed down by her hands as they combed through his white hair, her breath stolen from her lungs as his greedy mouth claimed hers for all it was worth. She moaned, tilted her hips towards him, and allowed herself to be tugged up and off her feet before he raced them into the bedroom. She hardly even realized where they were until her back was pressed to the bed, and he was working with eager, overexcited fingers to undo the zipper on her black slacks and tugged her stilettos off to toss them onto the ground.

“Miss me, did you?” she barely breathed the words before he caught her bottom lip and bit it hard enough to make her groan. She’d take that as a yes.

“Three weeks is a ridiculous amount of time,” he muttered, trailing kisses and quick bites down her throat, her nerves stinging with anticipation of what was to come.

“Take it up--with the fucking mob boss--that wouldn’t come out of hiding.” She arched her back, rolling her hips up slowly, deliberately, so that he could tug the pants over the swell of her ass, her panties going right with them.

His lips split into a wide grin, pupils blown so wide when he looked up at her she could’ve sworn they’d covered even his irises. “I would, if I wasn’t so sure you’d already given him hell and a half.” His mouth trailed lower, arcing over the curve of her hips and down the outside, then inside, of her thighs. Her top teeth bit hard on her lower lip as his tongue flicked out to lap at her clit, rolling the bundle of nerves around with his tongue before sucking on it hard. Her hips bucked up with the motion, a startled shout leaving her mouth as her fingers clasped at the silk sheets of her bed just beneath.

She could hardly find it in her to stutter “wait” just before he dipped his tongue further into her sex. At her words, however, he pulled away. He hadn’t learned yet how to control his emotions, to keep them from slipping out, and the confused tip of his head and furrow of his brow as he stared at her reminded her more of a puppy dog who’d just been told “no.” Her stomach fluttered.

“You’re in such a rush,” she laughed. “We’ve got all day and all night, and all day tomorrow.” At the very least, she hoped.

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” He grabbed hold of the hem of his shirt and tugged it off, the jacket having been lost sometime in the rush from the door to the bedroom. She hadn’t even heard it hit the ground. Her eyes traced the six scars that marred his chest. Her own tightened.  

“I think I’m entitled to a little speed.”

Mmm, not quite. He froze as her lips curled into a dangerous grin, moving back to sit on his haunches. “Why do I feel like that’s a very bad look?”

“Oh please. You’re too dramatic.” She rolled her eyes, turning over onto her front and relishing the soft moan of appreciation he gave at the sight of her finely sculpted ass. That never got old. Still, she pushed herself up onto all fours to crawl towards the edge of the bed, finding the drawer of her bedside table and opening it. Her hands rooted around for a half minute, and her heart sank as she wondered just whether or not she’d moved it before--yes, there it was. Her fingers wrapped around soft silicone, and she pulled out a curved vibrator with a satisfied grin. It’d been some time since she’d needed to use it, and she felt Pietro’s gaze intensify as she turned around, palming the vibrator. “I’ve got a bet to make with you. About just how long you can wait.” She palmed the vibrator with both hands, wetting her lips quickly as she watched Pietro’s adam’s apple bob at her words. He was practically quivering, curiosity flashing on his face as he looked from the toy in her hand back up to her. “I’m willing to bet you can’t last watching me make myself come with this before you try to take me. I don’t think you have the willpower, but I’d like to see just how long you can make it.”

His body tensed, and she could see the tent of his trousers twitch as his cock responded to the image of her playing with herself. She hoped he never lost how responsive he was, hope it never got trained out of him. As it was she had to force herself to let go, whereas with Pietro it came as naturally as breathing and running. Something about it always made her gut clench, and now the heat that had started between her legs intensified. Stretching out one of her legs, she drew the thick, curved head of the vibrator over her inner thigh and watched as his lips parted with anticipation, tasting her on his tongue and, she could guess, wishing his mouth or dick was being used in place of the toy. He actually twitched, jolting as though he was about to move forward when she drew the head over her slicked nether lips.

“What do I get if I can?” His voice broke, but it only made her endearment for him increase exponentially.

“Well, you get to do whatever you want with me. Fuck me, make me _beg_.” She pitched her voice lower a couple octaves and watched as he had to brace himself where he stood. She widened her legs until she was all but doing the splits, and settled the toy between her legs, right within his reach if he moved fast enough. With slow, sure fingers she undid the buttons of her blouse, slipping it from her shoulders to toss onto the ground, and her bra followed suit moments afterwards. He looked to have trouble swallowing, especially when she arched her back and reclined on her palms, the curve of her body impressive and inviting and it was just so much _fun_ to watch him war with himself already. Let alone what was going to happen when she started actually playing with herself.

“And if I win, which I think I will,” she boasted. “I get to use Natalia on you.”

He laughed, the noise breaking his eye contact with her bared breasts, her nipples having hardened in response to the air. “You named it?”

“It came prenamed.” Though that might’ve had to do with _why_ she’d bought it. She’d _kept_ it because it was about as damn good at its job as she was.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You know that, right?”

A throaty laugh passed her open lips, and when she picked up the toy she brushed it past her breasts, flicking her pointer finger so that it buzzed to life in her hand on the lowest setting. His hand brushed lower to palm himself through the fabric of his pants, fingers looking to undo the fly on his jeans, when she nudged him with her toes.

“Oh, and no touching yourself.”

His groan of disbelief was cut off as she slid the soft head towards her folds and rubbed the slowly vibrating tip against her clit. His mouth had been divine, but had threatened to bring over the edge far too intensely, far too quickly. There was nothing wrong with an excellent, fast orgasm, but this slow burn that began between her thighs, the itching of her muscles as they contracted and relaxed as pleasure burned low at the base of her spine, was something else entirely. The quietest of moans left her lips as she slid the tip over her wet slit, slicking it up before dipping the very head into her the same way his tongue had a couple minutes ago. Her eyes didn’t leave him, too enamored with the way that he clenched and panted, his knuckles going white from clutching the bedspread so hard. He could run laps around the whole state of New York in a matter of seconds and not be out of breath, but this? She brought the silicone tip back to her clit and increased the vibrations by another two notches, watched a dark flush start on his throat and trail downwards, covering his chest. The sight was delicious, whetting her appetite for what she’d get to do when she won. She wanted to see how responsive he was to vibrations, whether they drove him as crazy when they played with his nerves as it did to watch her use them for her own pleasure.

To his credit, and her surprise, he only made to touch himself the once, as she’d turned up the vibrations one more level and had slipped the vibrator to the near hilt, save the couple inches that her hand held onto. She rocked it upwards, the curved head hitting her g-spot, and the vibrations of it made her eyes roll upwards. She heard him keen and shift uncomfortably on the bed in front of her. When she brought her gaze back towards him his eyes were fixed on the disappearing shaft of the toy, his lips parted and wet from when he’d just licked them.

And still he wasn’t doing anything. Dammit. She turned the intensity down a notch, though her body hated her for it, and his attention snapped up to her.

“Cheater.”

“I never said I had to be quick about it. This is about delaying the enjoyment for both of us. Drawing it out--oh,” she pulled it free from within her with a whimper, the scent of her arousal filling the air before she pressed the tip to her clit once more. Dangerous, yes, but it seemed to be what he responded to best. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as she rocked her hips forward a couple times. She even moaned his name, relaxing back on the bed as her free hand came to palm her breasts, tugging at her nipples and massaging the heavy tissue to try and get him to come closer to her.

Still he didn’t move more than the occasional shift, and she wasn’t sure who much more of this she was going to be able to handle. Slower, less intense vibrations or not, it was still winding her up, pulling her taut until she felt herself on the downward spiral of her orgasm. Her hips bucked back against the toy, rubbing it in frantic circles over her clit as her body went into a state of shock.

Only then, as her vision began to return to her, did she feel him shift and move on the mattress. The sound of clothing hitting the floor was superseded by the wrenching of the toy from her grip, Pietro’s hands twisting at the base until it hummed at its full speed. He pressed it, mercilessly, against her still swollen and overly sensitive clit and Natasha howled. Her hips bucked, trying to get away from too much, too fast, but he pinned her hips down with his extra hand, knees shifting so that they pressed her spread legs into the mattress.

_FUCK!_

Stars danced in front of her eyes as she grasped at his bared arms, nails biting into the skin hard enough to make him groan, but still he didn’t let up. His name was split by expletives that left her lips in hoarse gasps, only finding half as much air as she needed to fill her lungs while he alternated between pressing the slicked head of the toy against her clit, or swirling it around when she felt her second orgasm coming closer, depriving her of the attention he’d so willingly given her before.

“How’s this for delaying your pleasure? For drawing it out?” he asked, voice a hoarse growl as she felt his hips press further, and the head of his cock slid with ease inside her. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, surprising even her, as he pushed himself to fill her to the hilt and she sobbed with pleasure as he started fucking her into the mattress. His hand released her hip in favor of wrapping her legs around his waist, deepening just how far he could press into her, and she leaned up into his touch.

“Pietro--oh--P--fuck,” she could hardly form the words, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself up and against him, hoping the weird angle might force him to abandon the vibrator. It did nothing of the sort, and instead he simply hefted her up into his arms, balancing the vibrator so that it was trapped between their abdomens. That didn’t work near as well as he’d hoped, the toy slipping out of place anytime she’d buck against him hard enough, and he growled in frustration after it fell to the bed the third time.

“Let go of my waist and get on your hands and knees, darling,” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, nipping at the shell of it so that she shivered. Mind too blissed out, it took her half a minute to realize what it was he’d said, and it didn’t help that he kept bucking into her, making getting off of him less than appealing. Besides she was so damn close to her orgasm if he just gave her a few minutes more--.

She tightened around him as he started to pull out, Nat shaking her head and clawing at his back in despair as his cock slipped out of her with a wet pop. _Dammit!_

He moved her onto her hands and knees, placing a pillow just beneath her elbows to give her something to hold onto, before he slid back into her in one easy motion. The sound of his hips slapping against her ass and thighs released as delicious a noise as she’d ever heard, and she buried her face into the pillow and pressed right back against him in time.

She’d nearly forgotten about _Natalia_ before it came back to press hard against her clit once again, turned on just as high a frequency as before. She swore, biting the pillow, and without any sort of warning came around his dick. Her whole body seized, her lungs burning without any air to fill them, and still the pleasure didn’t stop coming. Pietro’s thrusts were getting sloppy, but as she stopped twitching and started shying away from the toy he removed it from her clit. It was a small mercy, before she felt the vibrating tip being pressed to her ass.

Dammit, he was good at what he did. The sensation wasn’t one she’d felt in a long time, and as he whispered for her to relax his own thrusts slowed down, the pleasure of his cock inside her, as well as the bonelessness that came with having just orgasmed, helping to loosen her muscles. The vibrator’s thick head was the hardest part, and with help from two of his fingers, slicked up with her arousal, it slid in slowly. He’d lessened the intensity of the vibrations as well, easing it past the tight ring of muscle until she felt it pop into place. She whimpered, turning her head to the side to watch his mouth open in awe as her body took the rest of the toy without difficulty, stopping only at the handle.

Double damn him for angling it just so that the curved head pressed against the thin stretch of skin that separated his cock from the fake one. The vibrations came back, turned on to half its potential speed, as he started to pick up his own pace again. The sensation was too much, her body so full it made her jaw ache from clenching her teeth so hard, and her third orgasm was beginning to rear its stupid little head, turning her into a babbling idiot as he grunted behind her.

“Shit, Natasha, I’m gonna--come. Want you to come with me.” The hand wielding the toy sped up until she wasn’t sure her body could take any more than what it was being given. What was more his hips had begun to duplicate the pace, and it wasn’t long until she was wailing and so glad that her neighbors worked during the day. He followed suit right after her, hips pressed flush against her ass, body bent so that his forehead came to rest on the middle of her back. His breath was warm against her skin, and that damn vibrator was still going inside her. The two hour battery life it had boasted when she’d bought it suddenly seemed a curse.

Pietro slid out of her with a muttered curse, and his hand finally turned off the toy before pulling it out as well and setting it near the foot of the bed. Exhausted, they curled up with one another, Pietro’s arms wrapped loosely around her as he kissed his way down the column of her throat.

“See if I ever try to teach you anything else,” Nat found herself muttering, mouth dry and gaze slow as it turned to find his eyes. “Geez.”

His body pulsed with his quiet laugh and he licked a slow stripe up her jawline. She shuddered.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t love that,” he gloated.

“I don’t think I can move. You’re going to just have to carry me everywhere, and accept that I’m incapable of doing anything for the rest of the night.” She hardly stifled a yawn, looking through her eyelashes up at him. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Oh, I think I can make you move.” His voice had her breath catching in her throat. “While you were gone I may have taken the liberty of asking Stark for his expertise on making a few toys to try out on you myself.”

 

She’d either murder Tony if she ever regained the ability to walk again, or never say another bad word about his tinkering again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Natalia? Exists. http://www.amazon.com/Waterproof-Sophisticated-Naughtiness-Duchess-Rechargeable/dp/B00ESX0YKQ Thank you, Amazon.


	6. 1. Anal Sex, Loki/Natasha/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anal Sex involving Natasha, a genderbent!Sif, and Loki. Works as a follow up to a previous fic "I Wanna See Your Animal Side," or a stand alone piece ignoring the first two paragraphs.   
> This chapter involves anal sex [obviously], a threesome, double penetration, and a small reference to past Loki/Sif just thrown in because why the hell not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very very very happy birthday to Ms. Alison! You and I have talked before about how wonderful it would be to see a genderbent!Lord Sif, so here that is, along with some lovely Blackfrost of course. Hope you enjoy it and have an excellent day!

He ought to have known that he wouldn’t have forever with her, that even a powerful spirit such as herself would be snuffed out when the time came. The Norns held no court, no laws save their own, and offered no explanations as to why it was what they did. After Natalia and he had left the forest they’d traveled the world, gone as far as Natalia had ever been and then surpassed it. He’d never met Clint, the pair of them not having need. Everything they wished for was in their grasp, Loki’s magic fully at his disposal. Every single whim of hers was catered to, and Loki all the happier for it. Every evening was spent in each other’s arms, and every day the world unfolded for them, however it is they wanted it to.

But when he’d come back one evening to the small, abandoned palace he’d commandeered near the edge of England she’d not responded when he’d called out to her. It had forced him to hasten his steps, to chase shadows and bloodstains from room to room until finally finding her, choking on her own blood, in their bed. He’d howled and cradled her in his arms, cutting his own flesh in an offering to the Norns to bring her back--but nothing had happened. He buried her near her favorite garden just by the East, so she could watch the sunrise every morning as she had when they’d been together, and then took off to slaughter every and anyone who’d had a hand in her demise.

 

Some hundred years later, top hat covering his newly blackened curls, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a woman on the other side of the street. He’d seen red hair before, having traveled in Natalia’s absence, but there, amidst the stench of London smog and the burning lamps on the streets, she burned in front of him. Nevermind that she already had a man on her arm, his black hair much like Loki’s own, and nevermind that he doubted she had any idea who he was, he surged across the street the first chance he got.

“Pardon me, madam,” he said quickly, catching her shoulder with his own as they passed in the streets. There was a flash of displeasure in the eyes of the man, but Natalia’s green eyes were bright as she looked up through her lashes at him.

“Not a problem, sir,” she assured him with an easy smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I must say, if it’s not too forward,” Loki pressed even as the other man at her side started to try and tug her away. “Your hair is the most extraordinary shade of red. Did your mother give it to you?”

It made her laugh, nodding her head quickly. “She did.”

“How very thoughtful of her. I’m Loki, Loki Laufeyson.” His hand extended but his gaze never left hers, searching for some shred of recognition. Something. Anything. He was desperate for the slightest of hints that she knew who he was. And there was, making his stomach flip with excitement as her lips widened in a smile that lit up her whole face.

“Like the mythology? Wonderful, Sif here has the same fortune of being named after a deity.” She motioned to the man at her side, whose brown gaze Loki now recognized. The corners of his eyes crinkled in interest. Huh.

“Sif? Wasn’t that a goddess?”

Sif’s gaze hardened, his lips pressed so tightly that the corners of his mouth were white with displeasure. “I had an interesting mother. Better, I suppose, to be named after a warrior goddess than to be named after a trickster fool who ends up destroying the world.” His words were biting, his tongue as sharp as the blade Loki had known Sif to wield as a shieldmaiden. Curious that she’d changed her form, yet kept the name. Just what was she hoping to gain by changing herself into a man?

Still, Loki wasn’t called Silvertongued for nothing. It hardly took him half an hour to charm his way back to their home, Natasha, as she was called now, winking as she’d invited him. His mouth had gone dry, his pulse jumping into his throat at the invitation, and the walk took decades before they arrived at Sif’s manor. It was grand, he’d admit that, and as he was led inside by the male counterpart of the woman he’d once known he grinned to catch sight of paintings of women in battle, others of retelling of the same myths that had been told about them. He’d been there to influence one or two of them. With a quick batting of her lashes, Natasha excused herself to go get more comfortable, leaving the pair of men to speak in Sif’s parlor.

The door had hardly shut when Sif stared at Loki, his eyes narrowing. “You are absolutely ridiculous. What in the Hel do you think you’re doing?”

“Courting a lovely lady,” Loki shot back. “I’d never have thought you’d ever give up your body.” He wouldn't be able to understand why she had; she'd been beautiful, still was in her own way. He might've been a liar, but he'd never deny that.

“Yes, well you aren’t the only one who favors a switch up every so often.” Sif rolled his eyes. “Besides, it’s not as though I can pursue my own interests as a woman in this era.” Loki would’ve sworn, for half a moment, that it was the same goddess he’d known before, high cheekbones and withering glare and all. “Why did you pick Natasha, anyway? There’s always a reason with you--And I’m not leaving her, before you say anything.”

All pretense and smiles aside, Loki’s lips twisted into a scowl. “I lost her once before. I’m not going to do it again.”

“You ought to have taken better care of her,” Sif said, and his voice went darker than Loki had ever heard it go before. Loki’s own lips turned upwards in a snarl, teeth bared as his fist grabbed hold of Sif’s front and pulled him up close. He wasn’t fucking around anymore, his anger lashing out at the man in his grip enough to rip the glamor from his body and reveal the same goddess that he’d grown up with, who laughed at Thor’s quips and retaliated when Loki grew too comfortable with his mischief. She glowered, gripping his wrist in her own and twisting it hard enough to force him to release her, dropping back to her feet before the glamor replaced itself over her frame. The newly made male Sif dug his arm against Loki’s throat, backing him up against the wall.

Sif spat: “Don’t touch me again” as his eyes narrowed and the pressure on Loki’s larynx increased, and Loki simply stood still, his toes digging into the carpet, refusing to look away.

“Then don’t you insinuate I didn’t do enough. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Before Sif could say anything else, the sound of a throat being cleared forced them apart, Sif dropping Loki immediately. Loki rubbed his throat, muscles aching. Natasha stood in the doorway, one of her eyebrows arched as her arms folded just under her breasts, pressing them upwards even in the corset she’d undressed to.

“I was going to invite the pair of you up into my room, but if you’d rather have a pissing contest out here I’ll bid you both a pleasant evening.”

Her presence was more than enough to make them both go silent, Loki’s eyes widening as his stomach flopped, and Sif’s tongue darted out to flick against his bottom lip, his pupils blown. Any other time and Loki might’ve filleted a man where he stood for staring at Natasha in that way, but as it was currently he didn’t have the bargaining rights to demand her for himself. Sharing wasn’t his favorite of options, but he’d deal with it at least until he could convince her to be his completely. It was a small mercy, he supposed, that at least it was only sharing with Sif. It could've been far worse, all things considered.

“Is there going to be a problem, boys?” Natasha asked, her head cocked to the side, green eyes turning from Sif to Loki, then back to Sif. Both men were keen to shake their head, assure her that there absolutely wouldn’t be a problem, to which she offered them a crooked smirk and beckoned them to follow her with a crick of her finger. To say that they were chasing after her was a grievous understatement.

Her room was dripping with excess, whatever it was that Sif did obviously paying well enough to afford Natasha such lavish furnishings, and it was only after the door had closed that Sif pounced on Natasha, claiming her mouth for his own. Loki took to skimming his fingertips across her shoulders, loving how she responded beneath his touch, kissing and sucking all the corners of her throat and jaw line that had made her whimper and moan when they’d laid together before. He was glad to find they had the same effect now as they had then, and in no time her corset fell to the ground. Had she been of sound mind, she might’ve even thought it was magic that’d gotten the fastenings and ties undone so quickly, but given the groans that made her whole body vibrate as Loki hiked up her skirts, she wasn’t anywhere near sanity. He preferred it like that. Sif’s hands palmed her breasts, his mouth trailing a warm pathway down the front of Natasha’s throat, to her collarbone, then to suckle both of her breasts in turn. Her head tipped back as he took one of her nipples in between his teeth, nipping softly while Loki freed her of the rest of her clothing, the skirts and hoops and every other accessory that man could conceive to keep them from touching skin to skin fell to the ground.

Natasha was hardly able to croak out “Bed” before Loki had her up in his arms and away from Sif, causing the both of them to groan with displeasure at the loss of contact. It gave Sif more than enough time to divest himself of his own clothing, though, as Loki laid Natasha down on the bed and eased his way between her widespread legs. He could smell her arousal from the other side of the bed, and with his head between her thighs it was damn heady. His tongue flicked against the bud of her clit with slow, simple strokes that had her back arching and her moans gurgling in her throat before Sif closed her mouth with his own once more.

That only spurred Loki to try all the harder to make her moan, relishing the way her body vibrated as he hiked her legs over his shoulders and ground his face against her slick cunt, devouring her, starving for the taste of her and feel of her flesh tightening around his tongue. One of his fingers pressed into her sex, slick enough for him to slide it in to the knuckle, before pressing a second in with hardly any time wasted. Her back arched, one of her hands reaching to tangle her fingers up in his hair as the second reached out to stroke Sif. Loki’s eyes flicked upwards, the sight of the pair of them locked in a passionate kiss enough to send shocks down to his own cock, the tip already weeping with precome. He welcomed the slight friction that came from rocking his hips forward, the seam of his trousers at the perfect position to torment the hell out of him and keep him on edge, and as he caught sight of Natasha’s hand moving he found some strange twist of curiosity had his gaze following her movements. He nearly choked, the size of Sif more than considerable. Just how many liberties had the goddess taken in crafting this form?

Not to be outdone, and not entirely proud of his pettiness, he crafted a spell to alter his own body ever so slightly, just to give Sif some fair competition, and his clothing all but melted off to relieve the pressure that came along with it. Sif’s eyes on him as Natasha broke away from the kiss to gasp for air told Loki that he knew exactly what had happened and had he not been so caught up in the moment he’d have called Loki out on it.

Loki pumped his fingers faster inside of Natasha, eager to break the eye contact between himself and the other god, feeling her begin to tighten up around him before he pulled them out, and pressed one well-slicked finger up to the pucker of her ass. She writhed, eyes opening as she stared down at him. “What’re you doing?” she barely managed to gasp. Sif smirked, kissing the corner of Natasha’s lips.

“This will feel amazing, I promise,” Loki said smoothly, kissing down her inner thigh and smiling as well, his green eyes flicking up to catch sight of her red-tinted cheeks and opened, shocked mouth.

“That’s not--.”

“Trust him, my love,” Sif murmured in her ear, his tongue flicking out against the shell of her ear so that she shivered. Loki wondered if he remembered how the female Sif had tensed up similarly at the same suggestion, though that was centuries ago. “Relax. I won’t let him harm you; nothing but pleasure for you, my darling.”

It seemed to calm her down, enough to let Loki press the first inch of his pointer finger inside, slipping in slowly as she relaxed around him. The heat of her body was divine, and she was as accommodating as ever, he found, as he managed to fit a second finger inside of her, scissoring her further open. She moaned, and Sif helped guide her through it, his mouth flitting from breast to breast, tasting her sweet skin for himself before he moved a thumb to rub slowly against her clit. That helped with the third, and the inevitable fourth that she would need if Loki was going to fit himself inside of her. It was going to be a snug fit to begin with, especially if she’d never done it before, and he delighted in the thought of being her first. His gaze flicked up to Sif’s, who looked about ready to burst as it was, and motioned for him to turn Natasha on her side. It’d make it easier for the both of them, and with a quick dip of Sif’s head, he slowly pulled Natasha towards where he was lying down, slinging her upper leg over his own hips.

“Mind if I?” Sif asked, and Loki shook his head while Nat whimpered. Her forehead pressed forward onto Sif’s chest, hands tightening around his shoulders as he purred in her ear how well she was doing and pulled her further up towards his already aching cock. Loki paused what he was doing to watch as, inch by slow inch, Sif pulled her onto him. His own groans were higher pitched than Loki might’ve thought, more familiar now that he thought about it, and the memory of their own infrequent couplings as they’d grown up made him shudder. His hand inside Natasha worked all the faster, kissing her shoulder blades as Sif rocked with her. He kept her up against his chest, his hips languid as he pulled out, then pushed all the way back in in a slow counterbeat to Loki’s quickening thrusts.

He couldn’t wait much longer, though, and again he used magic to slick himself up. She wouldn’t be able to tell what had happened, and would be all the more grateful for it anyway, as he pulled his fingers out and guided his cockhead into position in its place.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered against her skin, her body vibrating against his even as she nodded, unable to find words. He wondered if there would ever be a world where he could live without this, without feeling her warm skin against his, without hearing the thrum of her heart as she came alive under his touch. Just as slowly as Sif had, he eased into her, hearing Sif’s muffled groan at the pressure against his own cock as Loki filled her up with minor difficulty. He only had to pause once, halfway through, to murmur that she needed to relax, and after some coaxing and a couple extra thrusts from Sif to help relax her muscles was Loki able to fit himself wholly inside her.

He thought she might die, her heart was beating so quickly in her chest, and it was only his terror that they might actually be the death of her that managed to keep him from rutting into her like some wild animal. Instead, he and Sif took turns pushing into and pulling out of her, only ever aligning when she grew closer to her first orgasm. Neither of them would be outdone by the other, and one of Loki’s hands reached around to palm her breasts as Sif caught her mouth with his own once more. She came apart beautifully between them, nails scratching into Loki’s thigh, hiking his leg up to force him to bottom out inside of her completely, her back arching to press her breasts against Sif’s bared chest. Such was the strength of her own orgasm that she pulled both men alongside with her, Loki’s own groan stuttering in his throat as the air was sucked from his lungs and he felt himself explode within her, Sif actually shouting at the sensation as he, too, emptied himself. Between them Natasha whimpered and went boneless, her skin burning and a smile twisting her lips as she kissed Sif, then turned her head to kiss Loki as well.

“Now, wasn’t that better than arguing over something stupid?” she asked, voice hoarse, and broken as Loki thrust quickly back into her for a half moment, before pulling out slowly. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his own face, nodding.

“Yes, you’re quite right my darling.” He kissed her cheek, eyes catching Sif’s, who looked flushed and utterly debauched. “I’m looking forward to trying more out with the pair of you, if you’re both up to it.”

He’d never known either of them to back down from such a blatant challenge, and at the heat that stared back at him from the pair of them he hoped they made good on it.

 

 


	7. 20. Out-of-Character Clothing, Natasha/Matt

To be entirely honest with herself, Natasha had no idea what had spurred this on. She didn’t bring people back to her apartment, let alone men. Let alone Matt Murdock, who had this stupid, stupid habit of reading her way too quickly for her to be wholly sure he was blind or human. He might’ve been psychic, she wouldn’t have put it past him. Things were weird enough in her world that a psychic lawyer would’ve made more sense than the possibility of there being someone who understood her, who knew about her struggle with the numerous shades of red and morality, and hadn’t run for the hills as a result.

So there they were, his left hand in hers, his right hand exploring the mix of rounded and unfinished edges that made up her apartment, saying nothing about who she was. Liho had greeted them at the door, and the cat kept winding its way between Matt’s legs as he stepped forward. A soft laugh spilled from Matt’s lips as the thin beast caught the leg of his trouser and started to climb up, desperate for attention.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” The words left Natasha’s lips before she could think of doing anything else, hand breaking away from his to grab the cat, but Matt beat her to it, pulling the black puffball up and into his arms. He let the cat smell his hand, before cradling it in his left arm and stroking Liho’s soft fur. Nat blinked.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked, and again her brain was seriously lagging behind where it ought to be. It was him, in her apartment. It was throwing her off, putting her on the defensive when she didn’t have to, making her run twice as fast to catch up to the improbability of him actually sticking around after this.

“Well, I’m a shit shot. So there’s that.”

Nat snorted, rolling her eyes and knowing that somehow, judging by the curve of his lips, he could see it. “Somehow I think you’d figure it out.”

“You’d be amazed. Barton tried to teach me once. Said I almost shot him in the ass, and he was standing right beside me.”

Barton, that was an easy subject. Her heart slowed down at the comforting mention of her best friend, off spending the evening with Kate and Lucky, probably over halfway through a box of cold pizza. Matt’s fingertips spread over the soft skin of her wrist, the calloused skin sending shivers up her arm.

“You wanna take a seat?” he asked, voice soft. “Your shoes don’t sound comfortable.”

They weren’t, but she’d had worse. “Yeah, sure. Let me put the food away,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek and watching as he found his way with ridiculous, flawless ease to the IKEA couch she’d sat on a whole three times before this. Liho purred the whole way.

“How do you do it?” she asked, knowing he could hear her even as she tapped her way towards the kitchen and basked in the cool breath of fresh air it offered her as she slid the styrofoam carton in beside the nearly empty gallon of milk and thai take out from a couple nights ago that she needed to toss come tomorrow. “Find your way around an apartment you’ve never been in, with a cat in your arms of all things?”

There was silence, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business. A nice date did not mean an open invitation to the nitty gritty questions.

“It’s a matter of feeling it out,” he called from the other room. “You’ve been here so few times that the soft inclines in the floorboards tell me where to go, where you usually go. Everything else feels pretty close to manufacturer new.”

She smiled. Her heart slowed a little more, refreshed by the authenticity ringing out in his voice. “You can feel the slant in the floorboards?” she asked, her voice playful, as she purposefully kicked off her shoes in the kitchen, and stepped out and around the other side of the couch. It was probably fruitless, she knew he could hear her heart, but it didn’t stop her from enjoying watching his head turn to try and figure out just where it was she was coming from. There weren’t many people she couldn’t take by surprise, so she’d take what small victories she could with him.

Close enough, she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his cheek, laughing quietly when he gave enough of a start that it made Liho open one lazy eye to glower at Natasha for moving him. His small paws stretched outwards, sinking claws into Matt’s jacket sleeve, and falling back asleep.

“I think he wants to keep you,” Nat murmured. “I just got the death glare for waking him up.”

Matt was careful not to jostle the cat when he laughed. “Well, as a cat you know he doesn’t get enough.”

“Yeah,” Nat said dryly. “Or food. I starve him, can’t you tell?”

“So you mean those aren’t fat rolls, but ribs?”

“Exactly.”

This time, Matt’s laugh made the cat give a snort of disbelieving resentment before he leapt away, padding silently off into the rest of the darkened apartment. Nat hadn’t bothered turning on the lights, knowing her own way through, and Matt wouldn’t mind one way or another.

He shifted closer, arms free of the fluffball she’d been too soft to keep from adopting, and the press of his thigh against hers made her head spin. Her heart picked up once again, and she tried not to laugh at how ridiculous she was acting.

She’d done this before, sex was nothing new. So why did it feel like this was her first time?

She leaned into Matt’s touch as he drew his left hand up the curve of her shoulder, tracing the silk halter straps of her dress, his breathing uneven as he curled the hairs at the nape of her neck around his fingers. She shivered, her lips parting in surprise at how alight her body felt, fingers digging into the like-new leather of her sofa as she turned to Matt. His mouth had fallen open a couple inches as well, tongue flicking out and across his bottom lip as his head turned towards her. She could feel the jump in his pulse through the tips of his fingers, and leaned forward to gently pull his glasses off of his face and set them on the coffee table just in front of them, before setting to task undoing the many buttons of his dress shirt. She pressed forward, all but sitting in his lap now, and her lips pressed to the curve of his jaw. The burn of his stubble was sexier than it ought to have been, and she dragged her tongue over the flat, small stretch of sensitive skin just beneath his earlobe just to feel him groan underneath her. She shifted, tugging him to lay down on the couch so that she could straddle him with ease, and his hands found her hips so he could fist his hands in the silk of her dress.

“Thought you might like that,” she murmured, nose pressed to the crook of his neck, kisses searing the skin of his throat. “Beats polyester or lace.”

“Your skin’s softer than all that, so whatever makes you happy.” His hands had bunched the rest of the fabric up and around her backside, the cool air of the apartment making her back curl as his hands palmed her backside. Fire followed wherever his skin touched, and when he took two handfuls of her ass, massaging the well defined muscles, she let loose a whimper against the open collar of his shirt. Her fingers worked quickly to divest him of his clothing, rocking her hips against where she could feel his erection already straining the fabric of his pants, delighting in the way he groaned and bucked up to meet her. The air had changed between them, no longer charged with hesitation but instead a twisting need that had Natasha by the very fibers of her soul and was twisting, demanding attention.

His jacket and shirt falling to the ground, she dug her fingernails into his skin, the resulting half moons from her fingernails and deep, guttural groans coming from his mouth spurring her on further. Her head dipped down to take one of his nipples, already pebbled from the chill, into her mouth and bit just hard enough to tease that edge of pain Matt loved to topple over on a regular basis. His hands were quick to retaliate, slipping through the loose fabric of her dress to seek her dripping slit, fingers edging past her swollen lips and pressing into her without mercy. His fingers scissored her open as she bit her way up and down his chest, grinding against his fingers and muffling her moans with hot kisses. She came first on his fingers, her lips having traveled further up the definition between his pecs, traced his collarbone, then set sucking and purpling the juncture of his throat and shoulders. As he eased her over the edge of her orgasm her whole body trembled around him, tightening and trying to keep him inside her as long as possible. She hadn’t come like that, without her clit being touched, in so very long that it punched the breath from her lungs and left her clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

“I ask--again,” she looked up at him as her world started to slowly piece itself back together again. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“If you keep asking I’m going to run out of answers.”

He removed his fingers from her slit, sticking the wet digits into his mouth, then hers when she prompted it, delighting in feeling him quiver beneath her. His cock twitched against her thigh when she wrapped her tongue around the base of his fingers and pulled off with a slow, wet, pop, and his cheeks had grown warm when the streetlight from the open window caught his face.

“Think you could take off my clothes a little faster?” she asked, head tipping to the side as she pulled her hair out of the bun she’d thrown it into moments before they’d left, infusing the air with the sweet scent of her conditioner. “You’re running a little behind, Murdock.”

It didn’t take much longer for him to follow through, her dress and his pants following the already discarded clothes, and he laid her back on the couch in the process, spreading her legs and hooking them up around his shoulders so that when he pressed into her she saw the face of God Himself. Or, something close to that. Her head was too blurry, her nails too busy biting into Matt’s back as he pulled out, then pressed back in a little faster this time, to pay much attention. His cock was curved just enough that it pressed against her g-spot on every reentrance, and the angle was perfect to let him fuck her as deep, and as slowly, as he wanted. He had her practically folded in half, his eyes blurred but focused on her with such a fierce intensity she wondered what it was he was seeing, whether or not the reality of it all would live up to his own imaginings.

She leaned up to kiss him, hard, chasing her thoughts away with the slide of his tongue against hers and the sweet peppermint of the after dinner gum he’d opted for, considerate bastard that he always was. She reached around to grab a solid handful of his ass, groaning with appreciation when it spurred him to pick up the pace ever-so slightly, and gasped against his lips when they parted for air.

Foreheads pressed together, Nat screwed up her face and rocked her hips upwards to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, Matt, I’m close.” She didn’t know how, couldn’t understand how it was he knew just how to work her body better than near anybody alive, or dead, but couldn’t hold off the truth of her impending second orgasm for much longer. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper and digging her heels into the hard muscle of his shoulder blades so that he had to brace himself on the armrest just above her head. “Gonna come--gonna come all over you. Fuck, Matt.” She arched her back, welcoming the hard thrusts that meant he wasn’t going to last too long, either. She grinned through parted lips, leaning up to lick her way into his mouth once more, sucking on his bottom lip until he groaned atop her and his pace grew sloppy. “You gonna come too, Matt?”

“‘M close, Nat,” he agreed, voice cracking, breathing erratic.

“Come on then, babe. Come for me. Want you to, want you to come inside me. Please. Please, Matt,” she begged, nipping at his earlobe until he stuttered, and stilled, filling her with one swift thrust that had her orgasm ripping through her. Their shouts mingled, breath hot against one another’s skin, and Natasha’s vision went white around the very edges. She laughed, blinking quickly. For half a second it’d looked like Matt had a halo, and the trembling movement of her body made him hiss through clenched teeth at how overly sensitive to the sensation he’d become.

“F-u-uck,” he drew the word out as he pulled from her, kissing his way up the inside of her left thigh, before repeating the motion down her right one.

When he put his mouth to her slit, slurping at the spend that covered the inside of her thighs and her slit, she whimpered and dug a hand into his hair, guiding him just where she wanted him. Perfect.

 

They didn’t fit on the couch, but didn’t much feel like stumbling to the bedroom with weak limbs. She’d managed to tug the one oversized, ridiculously soft wool blanket from its place over the back of the couch and grinned to see him cuddle up underneath it, his arms wrapped around her waist and head resting on the throw pillow Clint had forced her to buy to make her apartment look “homey.”

Had there been light, and had she been present enough to think it over, she’d have snapped a picture of it to send to him. Another day. For now, she needed sleep, and she didn’t think there was any better place to find it than in Matt’s warm, comfortable embrace.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like! Thanks so much for reading. This got a whole lot more feels-y than I'd intended, but I'm pretty happy with it tbh.


	8. 3. Body Fluids, Natasha/Loki + Fuck or Die

Natasha wasn’t so sure why she was surprised that Loki had something to do with this . . . but as ever, he did. Her head ached by the time that consciousness was starting to seep back into her body, and she could hear his labored breathing just beside her, as though there was something taxing him. Holding him back, maybe. Her eyes blinked open slowly, and her brow furrowed as the ache intensified, trying to get a grasp where they were in the room. Loki and she had been out in the field when he’d gone missing, his com having been turned off, and a couple minutes into trying to find him she’d been hit hard on the back of the head. Just her luck, she supposed. The room that they’d been put in was dark, cold enough to make even her shiver, and when she turned her head to look over at Loki it was to see that he’d been stripped down completely, with a thick metal collar around his throat that seemed to pulse the longer she looked at it. The fuck?

The cold hit her harder as she moved on the concrete floor, finding that she was without any clothes as well. Smart, she supposed, given that she had a plethora of weapons hidden in just about every fold of fabric on her suit, but it was damn irritating to be so exposed when she wasn’t expecting it.

“Now’s the time to magic us out of here,” she rasped to Loki, her throat burning as she rubbed it. There wasn’t anything around her neck, thank God, but it felt as though it had been lit on fire the more she tried to breathe through it. What was wrong?

“Can’t,” he rasped, and she looked over at him with a mixture of disbelief and petrified shock. What? “This isn’t letting me. I’ve tried.” He moved his fingers to touch the metal collar, which connected him to a thick O ring on the wall. He could’ve pulled from there easily had he been at his full strength, but whatever they’d done to him had taken that option from him, too. Which meant it was up to her to get them out of there. As she sat up, she struggled to rack her brain with how to do such a thing, or at least to break Loki free. If that could be accomplished then everything else was easy.

“Natasha, there’s more.” He sounded frightened, and that made her stiffen as her gaze turned to him. Was her headache getting worse? “They did something. Gave you something. Said it was my punishment, to see you die and do nothing about it.” He swallowed thickly, his gaze dark. “I’ve only seen a poison like that once before in my life, and the results were not pleasant.”

Great. Just great. Shaking her head, Nat ran a hand through her hair, reminding herself to add poisoned to her list of near death experiences if she made it out of this. Captured, stripped, and poisoned, all while in the company of the man who’d called her a whining cunt. Great. Just great.

“So how do I cure myself, if you can’t?” she asked, getting slowly to her feet and feeling out her strength. It seemed like it was all there, save the agony that her head was being throttled with. So strength wouldn’t be an issue. She didn’t think he could rip him from the wall, or pull the link apart, but it was a small victory.

“The objects don’t grow here, but if I had my magic I could get them--.”

“So how do I get the collar off of you?” she cut him off, not wanting to sound rude but hey, he wasn’t the one almost dying, was he? She turned to face him, watched his eyes flit towards hers in the usual way that told her he was weighing his words carefully. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, ignoring how he kept focusing on her breasts and her slit, though to be fair that was on his eye level. Still, he didn’t have to be so obvious about it. Unless--.

“Sex? Really?” she arched a brow. He had to be kidding, had to go for her one last time before he bit the dust apparently. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she supposed. He was a tricky bastard, and this was no exception to the rule. She just wished she had something to throttle him with, knowing her fists wouldn’t do as much damage to him as she wanted to. Still, if they got out of this she’d find a club--or maybe borrow Mjolnir--to use Loki as her personal target. “How in the hell does that work?”

His eyes flicked upwards, meeting hers, and he stood up on his knees. “An orgasm offers an energy release, one that could break through the barrier of this device. Just enough to get me out. The sooner I do, the sooner I can heal you and get us out of here.”

“So masturbate,” she said, rolling her eyes, though breathing deeply was making her throat ache all the more. What she wouldn’t do for a glass of water. “Shouldn’t take you long.”

“Not strong enough to get this off.”

Natasha tried not to laugh at the double entendre, sure that it would hurt more than anything else, but her gaze stayed on him. It scared her to see that he was telling the truth, that there wasn’t even the slightest shred of a lie in his green eyes, and she sucked on her bottom lip as she considered it. If he was right, and she was poisoned, there wasn’t much time for her anyway. Might as well go out with a bang if she had to. Might even be worth it, and it was better than dying, assuming it did work.

“Fine,” she said, having to clear her throat to get the word to come out properly. “But get on your back. I’m on top.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it before anything else could be said. She watched his cock twitch to life, blood filling it until it stood proudly between his legs as he slid onto the cold ground. This was going to kill her knees, but it was better than being beneath him, completely at his mercy. Besides, when she was in control he didn’t stand a chance. This wasn’t about getting herself off, just him, and she’d done that a dozen or so times on a mission, this was no different.

Except for the fact that he was much better endowed than most men she had to deal with. She wet the fingertips of her right hand and pressed them against her clit, rubbing quickly and feeling the pleasure spark along her spine. His eyes grew hooded as he watched her, tongue darting out to lick his thin lips as she crawled closer. He leaned over to grasp at her breasts, palming them and squeezing her nipples enough to arouse her further so that by the time she was positioned over him she was well on her way to being turned on. Much as she hated to admit it he wasn’t bad to look at, and something told her this was going to be a great deal easier than she’d anticipated, so long as he kept his mouth shut.

She’d thought that too soon, apparently. “We don’t have much time, I need you to fuck me,” he urged.

It might’ve been hot had he not sounded like an asshole when he said it. She reached down and grabbed the base of his dick, her eyes never leaving his as she guided him into her, biting back a groan and instead tightening around him so that his hips bucked upwards into her. He felt excellent, filling, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She’d be damned if she let on that he felt good. Instead, her hands pressed hard to his chest, and she pulled herself up on her haunches, before slamming herself back down. She’d seen him spar in the training rooms of the New Avengers facility, had watched how he’d relished the ache and bruises from the blows he’d suffered, and so dug her nails into his chest. He arched, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, as his hips bucked up and into her further. Fuck yeah.

Her pace was punishing for the both of them, her calves burning near as much as her throat was beginning to, and though she’d told him to let go, to relax and just come dammit all, he didn’t seem to be anywhere near done. She, meanwhile, was losing strength. She’d pushed herself too hard, and now her veins felt like they were about to combust if she went any faster. She tightened herself around him, but Loki looked as though he could read between the lines, judging the way his brow furrowed.

“Natasha, allow me. We don’t have much time.” His hands cemented on her hips, and she couldn’t find it in her to bat them away. Fine. She gave a quick nod of her head, allowing him to flip her over. She didn’t think he’d have been able to accomplish such a thing given the amount of chain he was stuck on, but he surprised her. She hated it.

He balanced himself on his knees and palms above her, wrapping her legs around his waist to push him all the deeper inside of her. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders and with a smirk that made her want to slap and kiss him at the same time told her to hang on.

If she thought air was hard to come by before, it was nothing compared to right then. He chased his orgasm with all the determination of a man striving for salvation, fucking her as though the secrets to the universe were hidden within her. She tried to shout, found that she had no breath for it, and so screwed up her eyes and keened loudly, tightening her body around his as his cock hit her g-spot over, and over again. Stamina wasn’t near as much a problem so long as he was in control. Natasha’s nails found a home embedded in the skin of his shoulders this time, the right hand snaking upwards to tug at his hair. Hard. He growled against her shoulder, his head resting there as he thrust into her hard enough to shake her bones out of alignment. It was all Nat could do to hold on, and when he came he seized up right around her. She whimpered, but even that was beginning to hurt. Still, something around them changed, the air tensing up with a strange sort of power that she’d never noticed before but couldn’t help to now.

All too soon he was pulling out of her, and she shivered in the chill that followed. The pain the poison was putting her body through came back, too, and she shouted in agony as her body clenched up. “Hurry!” she could barely shout at him. The two fingers that pressed into her wasn’t, exactly, what she had in mind, nor were the two fingers that found her open mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered, and she wrapped her tongue around the slick digits without a second thought, groaning at the taste of their mingled come. When she’d cleaned them off as best she could in between bouts of pain, he pulled her legs up and around his shoulders, dipping his head between her legs and licking into her come filled slit, easing her into what could’ve been another orgasm had her body been anywhere close to ready for it. He pulled away just as she was beginning to whimper in earnest, the pleasure and pain dividing her brain cells until nothing seemed to be working just right, and his lips began to move though no words came out. In the mean time he rolled her over, and held her up so her back was pressed right up against his front, one hand in front of her mouth. She was going to be sick, feeling something shifting around in her gut, ready to come out with a vengeance she wasn’t looking forward to becoming familiar with. What was it he’d done to her?

No, it wasn’t bile, but it was something he was pulling up and out of her body, a strange smoke leaving her parted lips and nearly choking her as it did. He held it tight in one clenched fist, and crushed it hard between his fingers as soon as Natasha found that she could breathe again. The pain had gone, leaving her only with a steady ache between her legs that meant she’d had an excellent fuck, and that was more than enough for her.

“Better?” Loki asked, his lips soft as they ran up against the curve of her neck.

“I will be when I get my hands on the fuckers that did this.” She looked back at him. “What the hell was that, a minute ago?”

“The spell required an exchange of bodily fluids, and though blood is often used I thought that the easiest.”

What the hell did they teach them on Asgard? She’d have to ask later. Right then she had a couple asses to kick.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


	9. 30. Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Nat/Bucky + Fake Relationship

As a new member of the Red Room, it was only custom that Natasha needed to get a little more experience under her belt before they let her go off on her own. Winter Soldier would be her escort for the evening, the pair of them attending a ballet where a prominent member of state with loose lips was also in attendance. The black silk dress on loan to Natasha hugged every single curve of her body, the straps hanging just off her shoulders and accentuating her bust, and even if Winter hadn’t been playing the part of an attentive lover she wasn’t so sure that Winter would’ve been able to keep his eyes off of her. No one else seemed able to. They breezed past the ticket kiosk before Natasha tugged Winter aside in the direction of the staircase towards their private box. They had to wait until the Intermission to get the Comrade alone, when his wife would undoubtedly leave him but he would stay to entertain other guests who would need to confer with him. Natasha would be one of them, and as they pulled off to the side Winter slid the small vial of poison to her from one of the folds in his jacket, watching with sure eyes as she hid it in one of the hollow, secret compartments of her thick bracelet, the vial sliding into place pressed just up against her wrist. It would be easy to undo the opening and let the liquid slip into the vodka he always took with these sort of events.

They’d gone over the plan so many times that it was surreal thinking that they would actually put it into practice, and only the warmth of his hand on her forearm leading her forward was enough to snap her out of her thoughts. It was careless, unprofessional, but she was still in training. Her eyes flickered up at the tall man who wrapped his arm around hers, easing her up the stairs and towards their box. How was it that he remained so at ease through the whole thing? She wasn’t wearing her anxiety at the mission on her sleeve by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew there was an odd straightness to her spine that looked mostly out of place, a tension just at the base of her neck that had her second guessing every move. For Winter, this was just as easy as breathing. Or at least he made it look like that.

He helped her into her seat in the box, bringing her hand up to kiss the back of it. “Relax.” He breathed the word against her skin, and she had to fight not to shiver. “You’re doing well.”

Praise wasn’t often given out in the Room, and certainly not by a man as proficient at his job as Winter Soldier. She tried not to glow, unable to help biting her lip to tamp down on the wild smile that crossed her lips. She was doing well. Of course she was, she was going to be a Black Widow. She was damn good at her job, and this was just one small stone in the path to getting better.

She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they didn’t see her improve.

 

The first act went by easily enough, she supposed, given that all they had to do was sit there for the sake of appearances. They didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves, though the box was a necessity. In it, Natasha was able to fidget with the small knife she had tucked in her garter, easing it closer to the slit in the side of her gown so that she’d be able to grab it in case things got tricky. Winter, too, was keeping an eye out for anyone that he might need to distract, so that when the intermission did come the pair of them broke away without needing to say a word to one another. They were to rendezvous at the base of the stairs in ten minutes, providing they could get away in time. If fifteen passed, whoever was there was to leave. The last one there was on their own. It wasn’t a position Natasha intended on filling.

She got to her feet with a sweeping glance at Winter, and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Be right back darling.” she whispered softly in his ear before striding out. She knew he’d have control of who made it up the stairs after her, had seen him assembling his gun and putting it into place so that its silhouette wouldn’t garner any attention and so it didn’t stick out on his body. On her way up the stairs she passed the Comrade’s wife, who looked rather queasy courtesy of the wait staff they’d paid to mix something less toxic in her own drink. It wouldn’t do to pay the same man to poison the Comrade, however. That would draw too much attention and potentially compromise the Room if the man was to say anything. Natasha was all for putting a bullet in his head before anything else could be done, but she wasn't the one who made the plans. Just carried them out.

The man didn’t even hear her come up, too busy refilling the glass at his side with the bottle of vodka provided for him. When she cleared her throat just behind him he turned with a start. His gaze immediately softened, however.

“How might I help you, my dear?” His voice was perhaps a little too interested, and even though the box was dark enough to allow them privacy she could see the way his pupils further dilated as he took her in in a long sweep of his gaze. She steeled herself internally, and offered him one of her most dazzling smiles.

“I just--you’re the Chancellor, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice breathy, and her cheeks flushing, as though she couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He nodded, and offered her a chair just opposite him. She strode forward instead, hands behind her back as she loosened the cap of the poison, and placed herself firmly on his lap. She angled her back end so that it was pressed near right up against his groin. He gave a low groan, even though she kept most of her weight on her legs so she knew it wasn’t because she was supposedly heavy, and she felt his body respond against her. “I’m so sorry for being forward, it’s just that--you are a most brave man,” she crooned, reaching out so that she could wrap an arm around his neck, bringing herself closer to him and her cleavage into full view given the angle of her body. He took a moment to appreciate it before he brought his eyes up to hers again. “I told myself that if I got a chance to meet you tonight I would tell you just how much--how much I appreciate you, and all of your work for the state.”

She ran a hand slowly through his grey flecked hair, reaching over him so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. He let out the lowest of groans, not even noticing that her left hand had grabbed his drink, and when she brought it around the back of his head, she’d unstoppered the vial and watched as it poured into his drink, swirling it around slowly to mix it. She brought the cup to her lips, tipping it backwards just enough to give the impression of her drinking, before offering it up to him. He held her gaze as he placed his lips just where hers had been, and drank deeply.

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss just below his ear and wish him a good evening, before slinking off. He had two minutes, if not less than that, before the poison kicked in, and she wanted to put as much distance between herself and him as possible.

She hadn’t been planning on running into anyone at the bottom of the stairs except for Winter, but he was speaking, rather unhappily, with one of the men who worked at the opera house. As soon as Natasha came into sight he jumped at the opportunity.

“Did you catch her, my dear?” he asked, voice heavy with implication.

Natasha shook her head. “No, the Comrade said that his wife would be in the women’s bathroom. Shall we?” she squeezed his hand, trying to keep her face from being seen entirely by the man in front of Winter, his brow pulled down even as the couple began to walk in the direction of the ladies room. Winter’s hand tightened on her own the further they got, and, thinking quickly, she caught sight of a staircase marked to take them out into the alley that stood between this building and the next. It was little more than a tight squeeze, but she backed herself up against the wall once they’d made it outside into the chill of the late summer. Her hands surged upwards and tugged his face to hers, kissing him hard and fast. It would keep attention off of them, at least, and he was quick to catch on she was pleased to see. His tongue parted her lips without difficulty, and she groaned into the kiss as his metal hand moved downwards to cup her backside and squeeze. Arousal bit at her stomach, lightning sparking down her veins as he ground his hips against hers and proved to her that he wasn’t exactly unaffected by the connection they had between them. She gasped when his teeth found her bottom lip and tugged, sucked hard enough to bring gooseflesh to every inch of her body. This was a dangerous game, but they’d made it far enough that they wouldn’t be suspected by anyone so long as the man Winter had been talking to didn’t come looking as well. Besides, so long as they stayed quiet, she didn’t see that they’d get caught. And this? This was excellent, heating every inch of her despite the unseasonable chill and the fear that simmered just beneath her arousal. His body shifted, standing off to the side to cover her body with his frame, and it wasn’t until she heard the rustling of fabric that she realized what he was doing.

“Winter,” she breathed against his lips as his left hand found her slit, the chill of his metal fingers silencing any fear that she’d had.

He groaned low in his throat, and the noise reverberated in her chest as she whimpered. Her head leaned back up against the wall as he worked two fingers into her body, slicked up by her own arousal. “The less conspicuous we are the better, so you’ll have to be quiet for me, won’t you?” His lips were right beside her ear, breath hot and sweet. She barely tamped down on a groan.

He pressed his thumb none too gently on her clit and she bucked her hips at the pressure.“Won’t you?” he reiterated, and she nodded vigorously. He resumed the steady thrusting of his fingers, scissoring her open slowly, before pressing the tips of his fingers right where she needed them, just as he added pressure to her clit. Her mouth fell open but no sound came out as her vision went white, her knees buckling. She might’ve fallen had he not held onto her waist with his right arm, and his left kept her standing by slowly pumping into her, easing her through it as her walls clenched on his firm fingers.

The shadows couldn’t hide the way he brought his come-soaked fingers into his mouth, or the way that his eyes lit up when she moaned at the sight. They’d have to find time to explore the possibilities of that later, though, slipping away into the shadows to the car he’d parked a couple blocks over.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This . . . is a lot more jumbled than I'd intended, and I'm sorry about that. I'm not too happy with how it turned out, but it struck me that I'd never written anything RR-based for these two, so . . . here it is. Maybe I just need to practice more.


	10. 6. Corsets, Thor/Natasha + mild slavefic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up warning for some violence/fighting near the beginning, some dub-con (though everyone turns out to be consensual), size kink, dirty talk, all that good stuff.

To say they’d been unprepared for an attack was a gross understatement. The day had dawned red as blood, which in hindsight Natasha ought to have seen as an ill omen. She’d been turned away from the window, her attention on some small trifle of the day, inconsequential, as her handmaidens worked to assemble her gown, as the first of the rogues had swept from the corners of the forest and butchered the men at their posts, their swords and daggers silent as they cleared the way for the hoard waiting just past the forest line.

Natasha’s corset had just been laced up, Natasha’s breath stuttering in her chest, when the alarm went up, sending a chill up her arms and turning her gaze to her handmaidens. Was this really happening? They seemed to be of the same thought, and as Natasha crossed to the window to watch the massacre of her would be husband’s army, her stomach plummeted. One of her maids ran from the room with a shriek, while the second, Amora, hastened to grab Natasha a robe to at least make her decent. Not that there was much time for them to spare. Natasha’s heart raced at the thought, quickly wrapping the thicker cloth around her and realizing it barely did a damn thing.

“Fetch me a cloak, hurry,” she urged the woman. That would at least be warm, and she didn’t know where it was they’d be going so it was better to be prepared than to freeze to death in the late or early hours of the day. When her maid disappeared to grab her one Natasha crossed to her bed. Her fingers reached under her feather pillow to grip the hilt of a dagger she never slept without.

She heard Amora gasp when she came back. “M’lady--.”

“I’m not going to let them hurt either of us,” Natasha said seriously, her eyes hardening as she turned to her maid, her voice dark. She’d thought to slit idiotic Alexei’s throat with it the next time he tried to rush their courtship without her consent, but that would have to wait.

If she was lucky enough he would perish in the struggle and it would never be a worry of hers again.

Her maid promised that she knew a way out of the castle that the others wouldn’t dare to think of, and Natasha followed her out without another word. She tried not to think about the screams of the men dying defending her, and that she was leaving without consulting their lord about any of it. Tried not to think about what her father would say when she returned home, her fine gowns all left behind to the marauders that had taken what would have been hers in a month and a half. It didn’t matter in the end, not so long as she made it out alive.

There was a secret tunnel through the library that Natasha had discovered two weeks ago when she’d been avoiding her duties and had looked for a place to hide, but it only led to the King’s study. She was certain that would be the first place that the marauders would go in order to find the King. Perhaps Amora didn’t know that. It caused Natasha to hesitate just outside the entrance, looking at Amora. “You’re certain that this leads to the outside courtyard?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, it’s direct, the only way to get out.”

So what was waiting for Natasha in the study, she wondered? When she didn’t move a flash of frustration passed over Amora’s face. “Please, m’lady, there’s no time--.”

She stumbled as Natasha shoved past her. Hell no. She wasn’t about to fall for whatever it was that Amora--or the rogues she was likely working with--had planned. The sting of her betrayal was fleeting at least. Nat focused instead on how to best get out. Amora, crafty as the best of them, would have expectations of her own where Natasha would go. What was more she knew that Natasha was armed.

She ought to have slit her throat, really. Natasha was becoming weak, as her father had said she would be. She blinked hard to bring her mind back to the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind clear, dammit, or she was as good as dead.

Her footsteps faltered when she heard the clatter of armor and heavy panting. Natasha’s fingers tightened their hold on her knife. With ease, she managed to slide into the shadows, inhaling deeply to try and slow her own breathing waiting in near complete silence as the stranger came clanking across the threshold.

Alexei stumbled into view, the armor he’d outfitted himself in poorly made and far too red, the color garish, as if anyone needed any help to find the king. Really, didn’t he know the first thing about blending in? At least her cloak was dark. Natasha kept perfectly still, praying he wouldn’t find her. Then again, he’d always been able to smell out where he wasn’t wanted. Shadows or not, his gaze zeroed in on her and his lips twisted.

“Natasha--I was just coming for you.” He puffed his chest up, as if truly believed it. “Come, we need to leave while we still can.” He walked closer, clattering as he went, and she tried to step back. The wall met her back after the first half a pace. His gauntleted hand covered her wrist, pulling her along. “We’ll find your father, demand his help--.”

“No,” she said, voice quick as she tried to tug away, not wanting to draw too much attention to her free hand where the knife still sat, fat in her palm. His face twisted with irritation and disbelief, his hand tightening so she had no choice but to bend her wrist as he directed it closer to him.

“Excuse you?” His voice was low, dangerous. She’d seen servants on the receiving end of that voice come away with mottled bruises and cuts for the slightest of infractions, but as he went to strike her she hit first, sinking the blade of her knife into the soft spot on his throat, not having put his helm on just yet and so incredibly exposed. Blood gushed onto her hand as he reached for her, spluttering and gasping as pain lanced through his eyes and his hands struggled to grab onto her once more. With her skin slick from the blood she managed to get away, her own gaze hardening as she watched him spin to try and reach the knife. He managed to tug it out, but it only made the wound gush all the harder, and he hardly made it two steps closer before he collapsed at her feet, blood pooling on the stone.

“Well,” a voice behind her intoned, sounding bemused more than anything else. “Thank you for saving me the trouble of doing that myself.”

Natasha spun, only to face a man larger than any she’d ever seen before, his blond hair braided and tied out of the way. Her heart seized up, her eyes going wide, and she slid backwards in her haste to get away. He closed the distance far quicker than a man of his size ought to have been able to, and though her hands were slick with blood he still managed to get a good grip around one of her wrists, tugging her closer. She aimed a blow at his abdomen, finding that he didn’t have any armor on aside from leathers, and though he let out a breath in a quick huff of pained surprise, he didn’t release her.

“Come now,” he purred in her ear. “Don’t be like that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her husband had once said the same thing and look at what he’d tried to do. She yanked at a dagger from his side and brandished at him, pressing the tip hard just under his ribcage. It would take effort to make it pierce the leathers, but she could do it.

“Release me,” she snarled. “And I’ll let you live.”

Again she hadn’t expected him to move so swiftly, and he had her disarmed and his arms wrapped tight around her a moment later, pinning her limbs to her side. His grin was so smug she wanted to slash it from his lips. Bastard.

“I like a woman with fire,” he purred as he bent down to capture her lips with his own. “Your father’s vast fortune helps, too.”

Now here she gave a laugh, breaking away from him so she could look him in his cool blue eyes. “You’re a fool,” she hissed. “My father is a lord in title alone. His money came from my husband. I had no dowry to be given to Alexei, so you captured me for nothing.”

If she’d thought it would make him mad, or that he’d release her, she was mistaken. His grin grew even wider, if anything, and she felt real panic fester in her gut. “Then I’ll have to settle for the pleasure of your company, won’t I?”

 

She was brought back to one of the guest rooms, the larger of them, and for that she was at least grateful. If he’d have brought her to Alexei’s room, where she’d spent all of her time trying to keep out of, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. As it was she could work with what she was given.

If there was one thing she’d learned in dealing with Alexei it was when to withhold affection, and when to give it in order to get to where she needed to be.

Her newest captor, who went by the name of Thor, had disappeared to oversee the fall of the rest of Alexei’s kingdom. Amora, as it had turned out, had been a spy for him, and with her assistance the whole network of lords and soldiers who’d given their promises to assist when Alexei called to them went without being alerted. Not even Ivan knew about what had happened, as far as Natasha could say, but perhaps it was better kept that way. When she escaped at least she wouldn’t have to worry about him thinking she was still alive and going after her. If she could feign her own death, then maybe she could work at starting over, living the life she’d wanted to. All that it took would be getting past her captor, this Thor.

She was interrupted, mid-thought, by the door opening, and the man in question entering the room. There was a flush to his cheeks that denoted he’d been enjoying Alexei’s many casks of well-aged ale, and she couldn’t help but think that her job was only going to get easier. Her back hugged the wall behind her as he stepped inside and cast his eyes in her direction, smiling.

“You’re a vision, you know that, Natasha?”

So Amora wasn’t cheap with her information. What else had she told Thor about her supposed lady? Nat didn’t flush, tipping her chin upwards in an act of defiance to his compliments. It only made him laugh.

“You’re drunk,” she muttered, keeping her words dark. “Do my late husband’s stores please you?”

He laughed all the harder. “As though you had any affection for him to start with. It was a loveless arrangement, and you cannot tell me you are not pleased he’s gone.”

Natasha sniffed, looking away as though afraid he might catch her in a lie, when really she was all but spelling it out for him. “It’s not kind to speak of the dead that way.”

His grin was triumphant as he moved throughout the room, stripping off the leather armor she’d thought to push her knife through before. He didn’t seem to be afraid or even worried about her coming after him this time, and that bothered some part of her. She wanted him to be afraid of her retribution, of her spirit, and even if he was a good foot taller than she was, and twice as broad, she was as fearsome as he was. Her nails dug into her palms as she watched him throw the leathers off to the side, before reaching behind him to grab at the back of his shirt and pull it up, over his head.

Well, hell. He wasn’t supposed to be attractive. It made sense for him to be so well built, given that he’d taken the castle with less than two dozen men, but it was hardly fair for his muscles to be so well defined. She pursed her lips to keep from imagining the things she’d do to every inch of golden skin that he revealed. She needed to keep her wits about her, but it was a slight relief knowing that she wouldn’t have to be faking her attraction to him in order to get him to trust her.

She pulled her robe tighter around herself, not having been afforded any other clothes than that, knuckles white as she held on. The evening was chilly, the sound of revelry and cheers from the rogues cracking through the brisk night air, but inside Natasha felt warm as a furnace. Thor looked back and grinned, catching the way that her cheeks were shining and flushed.

“You’ve never seen a man naked before, have you?” he asked, voice soft and amused. He’d turned to face her, and she tried not to count the myriad of ideas that swam in her mind, each of them enticing, each of them involving Thor lying on his back so she could spread her hands over his torso and upper chest.

“I have,” she retorted, purposefully keeping the words cut short so he’d think the opposite. He stepped closer, footsteps soft despite his size, and she swallowed hard as he tipped her chin upwards when he got close enough. Gods, he was so much larger than her, dwarfing her by comparison. His hand, fully splayed out, would’ve been large enough to close over her face if he tried hard enough, and something him being so close to her had her body buzzing.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he muttered. “I don’t hold well with that, but I’ve never had a woman turn me down yet. And you,” his eyes took their time wandering over her form, the robe doing little to hide that she was still in a state of undress. “have the look of a woman who knows very much what she wants, and will not let anyone deprive her of it.”

So he had a way with words. So did she. Her eyes met his and she cocked an eyebrow. “And if I said I wanted to leave? Would you dare deprive me of my freedom?”

“On the contrary. There’s the door.” He stepped out of the way and Natasha felt her mouth go dry. Surprised didn’t cover it, and when she looked back over to Thor’s face she didn’t detect the slightest hint of a lie. He was really going to let her go like that?

He was really going to leave the ultimate turn of the evening up to her?

Conflict split her mind into two parties, each screaming to be heard over the other as she tried to make sense of what her body was telling her, and what her mind was countering. If she left she could start over like she wanted, but if she stayed . . . his large body promised her a much warmer night than one staying out in the forest.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so much to leave in the morning, with the sun to warm her as she traveled? And if she gained his trust she could seek out what small riches she could find in the palace afterwards, then steal away in the early morning. All she had to do was tire him out.

Slowly, regretfully, she turned her gaze from the door back to Thor, who was grinning all the wider. “And if I say I wish to stay here for the evening?” She arched a brow, daring him to say what it was she knew was coming.

His face broke into a wide grin. “Then I’d say you’re a tad bit overdressed for what I have in mind.”

She arched a brow. “Says the man still wearing his trousers.”

Her cheek amused him, based on the throaty laugh that left his lips, and he started to undo the laces of his trousers, his cock already filling up and hardening so by the time he’d toed off his boots and slid out of his pants she could tell he was more than ready to get started. She couldn’t stop herself from looking, wondering how in the hell that was going to fit, and at the same time amazed at the excitement that unfurled in her stomach. Keeping her motions slow, she shrugged off the robe that Amora had given her from where it had hung on her shoulders, revealing to Thor the tight corset she’d been mostly laced into that morning, her breasts nearly spilling over the top of it, though the lacing at the very top wasn’t as tight as it would’ve been normally. She could never stand for it to be laced all the way up, the pressure was simply too painful, but it didn’t look as though Thor was complaining. His eyes were hungry as he took her in, from the small shift that covered her hips to the black corset that contrasted with her pale skin. He licked his lips, eyes flickering back up to meet hers.

“I’m going to have you as no other ever will after me,” he murmured, stepping closer so that his chest pressed up against hers, and she could feel his hardness just against her core, his hands coming to rest on either side of her hips. With his hands on hers she felt a spark of desire rip through her, and she canted her hips forward ever so slightly, putting pressure and adding sensation onto his hardened cock. He groaned, and one of his hands ran its way up her back to grab hold of her hair at the back of her head, tugging her head back with just enough force to make it interesting. “I’m going to ruin you for any man who thinks to make himself your lover. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy making you mine, Natasha, but more than that, you’re going to enjoy it even more.”

“Big words for a big man,” she goaded, her pulse jumping as he grinned. “We’ll see whether or not you can live up to them.”

There. She didn’t have to do another thing, the challenge set for him, and he rose to it magnificently. He growled low in his throat, hand releasing her hair in favor of ripping the laces from her corset. Had he a knife on him he might’ve cut them off, but Natasha did nothing to help him, instead reaching down to undo the lacings of her shift, letting that fall to the floor as Thor pulled on the lacings of her corset. It only tightened the bodice around her at first, her breasts pushed up even higher, and he leaned in to bury his face between them, biting and licking as Natasha felt herself groan. He’d made a remark about whether or not she’d seen a naked man before, but here he was acting as though he’d never seen a woman in her own skin and nothing else. It was endearing, exciting, and enough to spur her on to help him remove the last article of clothing from her torso. It fell away to the side, and he cupped her breasts in his hands so he could squeeze them as he pleased, running his thumbs over her already hardened nipples so that she moaned softly. From there his hands worked their way down, spreading lightning over every inch of skin until they came to rest on her ass. Fingers cupping her cheeks, he hoisted her up and into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips with ease, as he carried her bodily to the bed, his lips seeking out hers. Her tongue slid against his bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, and with a moan of appreciation he allowed it before he collapsed backwards onto the bed, Natasha slipping her legs out from under him to straddle either side. Another alteration she hadn’t expected. She’d have thought he’d rut into her like a hound with a bitch, but this? This was a welcome change.

She tilted her hips forward, her slick cunt sliding against his cock. He groaned, head tipping backwards, at the sensation, but it was when she stopped, poised just above him, that he opened his eyes to look at her fully.

“You’ve--but Amora said--.”

Natasha couldn’t help but grin at his surprise, sliding herself down inch by inch onto him. Her nails bit into his chest as she went, amazed and enlivened at the sensation of being so full she couldn’t imagine stopping or changing her mind now. “Just because I never laid with my fiance doesn’t mean I’m new to this, Thor. Nor are you.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, and he groaned as she fully seated herself on his cock, her hips flush with his. “So why are you so out of sorts about it?”

“I’m not,” he assured her quickly, as though afraid she’d stop. His hands found her hips and held tight there, reassuring himself that she was still very much atop him, and as she rocked her hips back and forward his next words were choked with his pleasure. “I’m just--pleased--He wasn’t worthy of you, anyway.”

Awe, wasn’t he adorable? She leaned forward, lifting her hips up a few inches before slowly, tantalizingly, lowering herself back. When she was close enough to his ear she murmured, “oh? And you are? Suppose you’d best prove it to me, then.”

His fingers tightened around her hips, and she hardly had time to suck in a breath of anticipation before he lifted her bodily up, then slammed her back down onto him. Her body spasmed with shocked delight, her head thrown back as her breasts brushed against his chest. Lights popped behind her eyes and yes that was exactly what she wanted, what she needed. She had no problem with letting him take the lead as he lifted her up and down until she thought she’d burst with pleasure, her veins thrumming with it, doing everything she could to hold onto him as her throat ran itself raw with her whimpers and keens of pleasure.

But he wasn’t content with that. It wasn’t difficult for him to maneuver them so that she was on all fours, Thor just behind her, one hip wrapped around her waist to hold her in place as he pressed into her, his speed varying from bone-shatteringly fast, to slow, and easy so she could catch her breath. With his spare hand his thumb circled her clit, the pace and pressure of that varying as well so that she was going mad with want for release. Her skin felt too tight, her bones out of alignment, and as she pushed herself back against him with every thrust, his speed and technique became more determined as well.

“Gods above, Natasha,” he groaned, breath warm on her back as he pressed his forehead against her spine and his body shivered with the force it took to keep him from coming before she did. She’d already begun to spiral, her hands clutching at the bedcovers, when he tipped her head to the side so he could kiss her deeply. With his thumb and forefinger he added just the slightest of pressure to her clit, the pain lacing the pleasure until it broke the dam that had started within her and she was howling with pleasure, breaking away from his kiss to scream as the world wheeled around her. It was all she could do to hold on, her body seizing up around Thor’s cock so that she dragged him to orgasm as well. His own groans were quieter, more like the low rumble of distant thunder, and his body vibrated with the aftershocks of his climax as he pressed his body flush to hers.

It was a damn miracle he didn’t collapse on her, truthfully, and Nat was grateful as he rolled them both onto their sides, still connected at the hips, Nat too satiated and exhausted to do much else than breathe and content herself with his warm hold.

Tomorrow was a new day, and she’d deal with it when she had the energy to, not a moment sooner.

 

 


	11. 12. First Time, T'Challa/Natasha + Hatesex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, dub-con by nature, and it's entirely Jessy's fault that I wrote this. I've never written T'Challa before, only read a few of the Black Panther comics so . . . I am so, so sorry if he's out of character.  
> That being said: hope you enjoy!

The real problem with having released all of her information online, Natasha thought as her body stiffened upon seeing that the bottom lock of her door wasn’t done, only the deadbolt having been slid into place, was that it set her up for a shit ton of surprises that she never wanted to think about. Ones that usually resulted in her bleeding, or shooting someone she really didn’t want to, or running away. Saying nothing about the safe houses she’d been burning through in the last three months. She pulled the gun out of her right side holster, fingers wrapping around the handle as her left hand deftly turned the deadbolt the last half an inch, and she pushed open the door slowly. In the gathering dark of the evening her whole apartment was cloaked in shadows, and though she had half a mind to turn on a light to help her see just what had happened, she’d be even more at a disadvantage with it on than whomever it was that had decided to pay her a visit.

Her tongue darted out and wetted her lips as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a soft click. The windows were closed, and all she could hear was her own breathing and the thunderous pounding of her heart as her eyes worked to acclimate themselves to the dark. She’d kept the curtains open, at least, and the light from the building next door filtered through the panes just enough to give her a rough outline of her apartment. She hardly ever used this safe house, and more was the pity because she didn’t quite know her way around it.

She sensed, more than heard or saw, movement and twisted to her left just in time to avoid a blow to the head courtesy of a black glove, silver near the elbow gleaming in the light as she ducked down and found herself just managing to sink low enough to miss getting kicked in the face. Whoever it was was faster than she’d imagined, though she drew her legs up and over to sink into her attacker’s gut, feeling the boot of her shoe connect with something hard, absorbing the vibrations as though she’d not done anything. A clawed hand grabbed her by the leg and threw her off and to the side, her back crashing up against the kitchen wall. She groaned as she slid down, her right hand on her gun, lifting it to shoot at the dark figure, eyes hidden behind a mask so that all she saw was silver and pointed ears (‘almost like Liho’s’ she couldn’t help but think). That same hand grabbed the gun, though, and squeezed, claws digging into the barrel to twist it apart, before his other hand grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up.

“Natasha Romanov.” The voice behind the mask was deep, and she stared at the blank silver eyes, the markings around the faceplate, and her stomach dropped.

Years ago, decades, long before SHIELD had picked her up and helped her change her tune, she’d made an attempt on a man who’d fit this same suit, a Black Panther, a king of a country far away from her homeland Russia, for the metal that had put the country on the map to begin with. T’Chaka had been more than capable of fending off a young Widow, but when he was busy with her he’d hardly noticed Ulysses Klaw coming around to finish the job. She’d escaped before her employer, Klaw, could get any second thoughts about getting his own hands dirty with the assassination, and she’d disappeared back to Russia.

She’d heard T’Chaka had had a son who’d inherited the title, who’d dealt Klaw a blow enough to make him back off, but she’d never thought he’d find her. Her fault for not thinking three steps ahead of everything else.

His fist clenched around her neck, and her eyes watered as he pulled off his mask to glower at her. His eyes were dark, and the snarl on his handsome features ran deep as his anger. “You’re a hard woman to find, Widow.”

“Not hard enough, as it seems,” Nat managed to rasp, letting him tighten his grip as her hands scrambled on the wrist of his gauntlet. Fuck, he was strong, and if he kept this up she wasn’t going to have much of a windpipe left. “Who’re you?”

“I’m T’Chaka’s son, T’Challa. You remember him?”

She nodded, finding swallowing difficult as she tried to keep his eye contact. “I do. He was a great man--.” Her words were cut off with a cough and a gasp for air as his grip tightened. White lights popped on the edge of her vision, but before she could think to aim a kick to his groin he dropped her to the ground.

“You nearly killed him,” he spat. “If I hadn’t been there I’d have thought it was Klaw alone, but he had a shadow, a certain small red-head with a certain, specific skill set.” The words were daggers thrown at her, but she didn’t deny them.

She rubbed her throat instead, scooting backwards until her back hit the refrigerator, then standing. “I did what I was told to, and I regret every single order I followed.” It wasn’t a lie, and perhaps he felt the truth of it. It stopped him in his steps as he made his way towards her. She reached out a hand, laid it against the breast of his suit, staring up at the man so filled with rage before her he was practically shaking. “I did a lot of shit I’m not proud of, and I’m sorry for how it’s hurt you, and your family. How I’ve hurt you.” She wetted her lips, her throat throbbing. He wasn’t yelling at her, at least, but his eyes were narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. She took a moment to take stock of him, of T’Challa. From what she remembered of his father the two were so very similar she could’ve mistaken T’Challa for the ghost of his dad. Broad shouldered, expressive eyes, powerfully built.

And his eyes flickered down to her lips every time she ran her tongue over them, his fury manifesting in a different way now that she’d owned up to what she’d done. Maybe she didn’t have to pay for this one with her life. She took one cautious step closer, watching in the faint light as his eyes narrowed. “I know that there’s nothing I could say that will alleviate the pain that you felt--feel still, I’m sure--at what happened, and I’m not about to try and placate you with words. It’s not how I work,” she promised. Her own words were light, soft enough that he had to lean forward, and her usually raspy voice was a little more hoarse than usual courtesy of the marks from his fingers she’d have the next day.

“So tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Please.”

His lips turned upwards in a sneer. “You think you can bat your eyelashes at me and it’ll make me forgive you? You all but put the bullet in his skull yourself.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, T’Challa.” She truly was, and her admonition took him by surprise if the deepening frown lines were anything to go off of. “But I don’t know what do to fix it. So tell me what to do to make it better. To help you.”

She hadn’t been so sure, when he’d begun to close the gap between the two of them, what he’d, exactly, do, and half expected to feel the claws of his suit ripping at her throat, even as his lips pressed against hers. His teeth dug into her bottom lip and she groaned, opening for him, and pressing her body hard against his. Her fingers spanned his chest, digging into the material, and clawing for something to help get it off of him, when he grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her arms above her.

“Don’t, for one second, think you’re in control here,” he growled. “Or that I forgive you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, knowing her eyes were blown as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “You do what you have to do, T’Challa.”

The growl that came from his throat was enough to assure her that he would. He backed her up against the wall without so much as waiting for further confirmation, but his hand that had grabbed onto her wrists had released them in favor of settling on her waist and shredding the shirt to ribbons. Good thing she’d never been attached to it, she thought as the tatters fell to the floor. She surged upwards to kiss him, grinding her hips against his to feel his hardness there, and groaned as his lips passed hers to nip and mouth across the line of her jaw and column of her throat. His breath was warm, fogging up her mind as he yanked at the belt that kept her pants in place, before sliding her pants past the swell of her ass so they could puddle on the floor. Her eyelids were heavy and her pupils blown as she stared up at him with parted, swollen lips, and his eyes were so dark that she knew he must’ve felt at least the same as she did.

Then again the bulge in his pants was a pretty good indication, too.

Her hands were quick to try and find a seam to help him take off his suit, but he was quicker and more adept at getting it off than she was, stripped down in front of her in a matter of minutes. She took in every inch of exposed skin with hungry eyes, tongue dragging slowly across her bottom lip as she looked back up towards him, and he smirked to have her full attention.

“See something you like?”

“You could say that.” She hiked one leg up around his hips and his hands, freed of the suit, came to cup her backside as he hoisted her up into his arms. He slammed her back against the wall, her head colliding with the drywall hard enough to make lights pop behind her eyes, or maybe that was the sensation of him sliding into her without any issue. She couldn’t do more than groan as he did, and when her eyes started to flicker shut he grabbed her by the back of her hair and forced her eyes open.

“Oh no, you look at me the whole time. Don’t you dare take your eyes off of me,” he ordered. Nat felt her blood spike and her lips twist upwards in a grin as she gyrated her hips against his.

“As you say,” she said, voice throaty. He held her gaze the whole while, tattooing her with his gaze while his hips pistoning against hers, his fingers pressing bruises into her skin. He was strong enough to keep her up against the wall of her kitchen, her heels pressing his hips closer with every thrust, her mouth open as she struggled to breathe. Her hands clawed at his back when he positioned his hips just so, the head of his cock dragging against the swollen flesh of her g-spot with enough momentum to make her shudder with pleasure, the first sparks of an orgasm making her toes curl and her nails dig a little harder into his shoulderblades. He hissed through clenched teeth, removing one of his hands to cup her chin. When he kissed her it was like he was trying to devour her, growling for her to open her mouth, and when she acquiesced he just about pulled her soul out from the tips of her toes. She whimpered his name when he pulled away, his pace having slowed to torturous, tantalizing her just on the edge of orgasm for an eternity and day.

If this was his style of absolution, she didn’t think she ever wanted to be right again.

When her orgasm finally hit she tensed up around him, his name broken as she forced her eyes to remain on his just as he asked. He grinned for the briefest of moments before his movements stuttered, his pace growing more rapid, and with a groan that sounded like it came from the depths of his soul he came. She leaned in, kissed her way down his neck as he shuddered and shook beneath her, but neither of them said a thing. Words weren’t needed, not now.

Later, as he was tidying himself back up in the bathroom, she left him the number of someone who could help him get all the answers he wanted about what happened that night so long ago, when she was Natalia Romanova.

 

 


	12. 17. Masturbation, Wanda/Natasha

It was some sort of spell that backfired, that was what Wanda had said in between kisses, their lips bruised and swollen, breath coming in hard, broken pants. fingers scrambling to strip one another down as their hearts pounded in their ears. Natasha bit hard on Wanda’s shoulder, teeth sinking into her soft skin hard enough to leave a mark, Wanda’s back arced and her breasts filled Natasha’s hands with ease. Her thumbs rolled her nipples around until they pebbled, delighting in how responsive the woman was beneath her ministrations. 

Her lips trailed downwards, bare knees pressed against the floor of Wanda’s room, and her mouth fastened on Wanda’s already soaked sex. The spell was making it difficult for Natasha to focus on anything other than the throbbing between Natasha’s own legs, but she managed to slide her tongue around Wanda’s clit, sucking and applying pressure where needed so that the woman keened and her knees began to buckle. When Wanda sank her hands into Natasha’s hair, Nat felt sparks connect with the sensitive skin of her skull, and it only made her moan. The noise was muffled against Wanda’s sex, the taste all Nat needed on her tongue as she devoured her, letting the dark haired woman ride her face with abandon. Nat pressed two fingers into her own aching cunt, fucking herself so quickly that her wrist began to ache. As Wanda’s hips rocked forward Nat’s pace picked up, thumb swirling over her own clit. 

Her veins were on fire, her eyes beading with tears from how badly she wanted to come,  and given the broken gasps and whimpers coming from Wanda she felt very much the same. She wasn’t going to make it very long standing up, though, so Nat pulled away with a gasp, the cool air hitting her wet chin, vision hazy as she dipped her head towards the bed. Wanda, mid-keen, followed Natasha’s orders without so much as another word, laying down without so much as another word on her bed and spreading her cunt wide with her hand. Arousal bolted through Natasha’s stomach, white hot and fit to burst if she didn’t get there soon enough, and she all but tripped in her haste to take her place between Wanda’s outstretched legs once more. 

She pressed half kisses, half bites on the inside of Wanda’s left thigh, fingers leaving her own cunt in favor of sliding into Wanda’s. Even as her body cried out against the loss, she pumped her hand furiously, working the young girl until she writhed. Her pale skin was covered in sweat, her eyes unfocused even as she tried to stare at Natasha, and with a scream that echoed around the room she clenched around Natasha’s fingers and came so hard Nat felt it in her bones. It was almost as though she’d come herself, feeling just as wrung out and exhausted as Wanda whimpered beneath her, hands cupping her breasts, eyes determinedly watching as Natasha’s hand slowed down, easing her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, before she picked back up again. No time to rest, not until the spell had worked its way through their system. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but straight to the point. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


	13. 15. Getting Caught Having Sex, Natasha/T'Challa

For two heroes who fought well in the shadows, who made it a habit to blend in until it became of the greatest advantage to reveal themselves, Nat had to admit that she and T’Challa were fantastically awful at being subtle when they got together. She’d come to him with a question about a company that was based in Wakanda, one that had HYDRA’s fingerprints in the ledgers, and she’d ended up with her back pressed up against the wall of his office, her moans throaty and  _ loud  _ as his mouth latched onto her slit, tongue pressed against her clit, her legs slung over his shoulders. 

“Fuck, ohhh  _ fuck,  _ T’Challa.” She couldn’t help herself. He pleased her like he’d written the book on giving oral, the faintest scratch of his stubble adding a delicious friction against her skin. Her hands scratched at his skull just beneath his thick, soft black hair, whimpering as he bit her inner thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. She was going to lose her voice at this rate, the throaty growl coming from deep within her chest. He stared up at her through his thick eyelashes, and she just caught the briefest hint of a grin on his face before he went back to it. She was going to come in his mouth if he didn’t slow down, and she moaned just as much as he picked up the pace. One of his hands had joined his tongue in pleasing her, two fingers deep in her and rubbing up against at her g-spot as her pleasure ratcheted higher, leaving her head spinning and her eyes fluttering shut--. 

Her phone rang from where she’d dropped it on the floor just beside him, and she groans in a mix of irritation and pleasure as T’Challa adds just the right amount of pressure to the perfect spot. He looked down into the face of Tony Stark and grinned. Before she can think to tell him no he picks it up and clicks it on, hits the speakerphone button. 

“Stark. Natasha’s a little busy at the moment. Aren’t you, Natasha?” 

She stared down at him, swallowing a laugh as his fingers kept up the movement. “Mhmm--sorry, Tony, can I call you back?”

“I thought you said you were there to do business with T’Challa. Official work stuff.” 

Ugh. She could hear Tony’s all knowing smirk over the phone and bit her bottom lip as T’Challa offered her up the phone in lieu of burying his face between her thighs once more. She barely held back a shout. “I’m doing business. Good business.”  _ Really  _ good business. “I need to talk to you later.”

“Use protection!”

“Bye Tony.” She clicked off. 

T’Challa snorted as he looked up at her. “I do hope you didn’t need to take that.” 

“Nah.” She shook her head. “They’ll figure it out. They usually do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, yes, but an update! Hope you liked it <3


	14. 21. Pain/Sensation Play, Steve/Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So, Serial Killer! AU, that doesn't go into any seriously gory details there's the underlying tension of what Steve does, vs. what Nat does. Hope it's not enough to put you off of reading it, but I thought I'd give a heads up anyway!  
> Thanks so much for reading!

She was an idiot, that was really the only explanation for what she was doing. An idiot who was going to get herself killed, who was playing with a flamethrower in a close forest without any protective gear, and just as similarly it was going to come back and bite her in the ass. Was that making her get to her feet, pull her clothes back on, and get as far away from the blond man in her bed, whose hands were picking her apart and piecing her back together with all the precision of an artist painting a masterpiece? 

No. No it wasn’t. She’d dropped her badge at the door when she’d seen Steve sitting in the living room of her apartment, his blond hair looking ruffled, his blue eyes focused on her with terrifying accuracy, and rational thought had disappeared. Their clothes made a pathway from the living room to her bedroom, and his lips traced the line of her spine as she shivered beneath him, his body covering hers on the bed. His hands moved to wrap around her wrists, and a ripple of fear passed through her. 

She’d seen what he’d done with those hands, had looked over the bloodied and broken victims, their bodies rent because of his hot temper. She’d watched him piece apart a gun just because he could, had been on the receiving end of him disarming her and somehow was voluntarily letting him run those same hands up and down her body, his movements smooth and serene. She shivered. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft against where he pressed his lips to her skin. 

She nodded. “Fine, yeah. I’m great.” The more she said it, the more she’d start to believe it, maybe. 

He wasn’t a stupid man, though, and smiled down at her. “You can relax. I’ve never harmed a redhead before, and I’m not looking to start.” 

Right, because that was supposed to be assuring. She swallowed the sass back, simply rolled her eyes and let herself smile, try to ease the tension from her muscles, as he placed her hands on the bars of her headboard. “Don’t move your hands, alright? No matter what.” 

The implying threat beneath his words, no matter how he’d tried to reassure her, made her pulse jump and her bones scream out at her to get the fuck out, now. Instead, she clung to the rungs, watching as he pulled himself off of her and stepped over to the edge of the room. 

Just what was it that he’d thought would happen, she wondered, as he picked his belt up from where they’d dropped it? How much of this had he planned? She’d seen him go to great lengths to make sure everything was aligned and perfect when he’d taken his victims, so now that he was moving through her house with all the grace of a well-prepared man it, again, made her stomach catch with nerves. 

But he came back to her, belt folded over in hand, and slid the cool leather against the inside of her thigh, chasing away her fears with a light smack. The sound was worse than the actual sensation, but she watched as her skin reddened and his tongue flicked out to run across his lower lip. 

“If this gets to be too much tell me,” he told her, their eyes connecting for a brief moment. She nodded, and he turned back to what he was doing. The pressure varied as he used the belt over seemingly every conceivable inch of her body. The smacks she’d receive along her inner thigh varied from hard enough that she dug her nails into the rungs of the headboard, to gentle, as he teased her nipples with the now warmed leather until Nat’s back bowed in search of more sensation. All the while his eyes never left her, seeking out her expression after every hard crack of his belt, reassuring himself that everything was fine more so than her. She lost herself to the sensation of it, her cheeks flushed as he pulled forth moans and whimpers of ecstasy and pain-laced pleasure that had no business leaving her mouth, let alone forming within her chest. 

The last crack was a particularly brutal one against her side, Steve already having spent time warming up her skin with varying degrees of speed and force, but when it brought tears to the corners of her eyes Steve swooped in to run his lips over the burning stretch of skin. She hissed at the contact, toes curling at the feeling, until he finally pulled away and grinned. He caught her face in his hand and watched as she blinked back the tears in her eyes, and he leaned in to kiss her. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he asked, voice a warm rumble as he dropped the belt to the floor and eased his way atop her once more. For a man of his size he was stunningly graceful and she had a hard time looking away as he skillfully moved her body to take her hips in one broad hand, wrap her legs around his shoulders, and pressed into her all in a matter of heartbeats. He sank inside without problem, and her voice caught as she cried out. 

Not once did her hands leave where he’d put them before, Nat not entirely trusting herself to move them, and instead letting him position her. His thrusts were deep, the curve of his cock perfect as it hit every sweet spot she knew in her body, and though she tipped her head back to moan and shout she didn’t want to take her eyes off of him. He was so singularly focused on her body, on watching how she reacted when he moved her legs to shoulder rather than spanning both of them. She could feel the heat of his gaze as he pressed one finger inside her along with his cock, his thumb a slow, driving counterpoint as it eased around her clit, and Natasha’s brain suffocated on pure sensation. The world around her narrowed down to Steve, and as she came closer to her climax she brought her eyes up to meet his. Something inside him clicked at the contact, and his thrusts turned from slow and steady to a harsh, driving  _ need _ that had her toes curling. If he’d been savoring the sensation before, now he was careening after it, drunk on everything between the pair of them. It pushed her over the edge in no time, her body going tight around his, arms trembling with the effort to keep holding on, and he spilled into her just seconds after. His chest was flushed, and Steve’s usually sharp eyes grew hazy as he smiled down at her. 

“Feel good?” he asked, taking her hands in his and removing them from the bars so he could kiss her knuckles. She’d sank them into his face the first time she’d met him, and he’d fucked her up against a wall for it. 

She nodded. “Real good. You?”

“The best.” 

Well, maybe if she could keep him preoccupied, they wouldn’t have to worry about his body count rising. She stifled a laugh at the thought.  _ Natasha Romanoff, detective extraordinaire, stops serial killer from continuing spree by laying on her back. _ Or atop him. She really wasn’t so picky. 


End file.
